All Partial Evil: part III
by ButNothing
Summary: AU,Wolverine, OC: 'It is possible he's evil,' Grace said to Sattar who had returned an hour or so after Logan had left. Sattar thought about her words. 'He was evil. At least at one point of his life, I believe.' 'Charles Xavier told me Logan has a heart.' 'I would say he has a soul,' Sattar countered and stood up.
1. Chapter 15 – Nightfall

**Reader be aware:** This is the third part of the series. Do read the first two before this one. This is an AU so you need to know the story so far to get the hang of this. This, the first chapter of the third part, is my version of the beginning of the first movie. I'm not making any major changes into the plot of the first movie, only to some minor details. After reading this chapter, feel free to watch the movie (come on, I know you want to).

* * *

 **15\. Nightfall**

A ringtone woke me up, not the phone ringing but the ringtone it was playing. It was Pete's mobile playing the most obnoxious ringtone on the damned northern hemisphere, a theme song from some b-class Spaghetti Western that should never had lit up the silver screen. Not the one from _A Fistful of Dollars_ or any other true classics but from some long forgotten piece of crap. I yawned, did my best to rub the sleep from my eyes and stretched my arms and shoulders as much as the cabin allowed. It was full daylight outside but I still felt downright dopey and decided to doze off until Pete was done with the call. I rested my head against the doorframe and paid no attention to Pete talking over the phone. I tried to let the rumble of the car and the road lull me back to the empire on dreams but that didn't happen. I didn't hear the road as such, the car was too quiet. Only the rhythm of the road travelled up the car's bodywork and resonated in the bones of my head and neck. I wished we could have taken the train. Nothing better than sleeping in a train.

I woke up to the realisation that Pete had stopped talking. 'Who was it?' I asked without bothering to open my eyes.

'Front desk. Someone came after Logan few hours ago. The X-men intervened before our guys could jump in, and the assailant fled the scene before they had a change to capture or even to follow him.'

I cursed under my breath and managed to shake off most of the sleepiness. 'How about him?'

Pate changed the lines and overtook a lorry. 'The X-men took him with them to New York. Logan was unconscious when they left the scene.'

'Unconscious?' I found myself feeling worried for him and it didn't escape Pete's sharp senses.

'I'm sure he's fine but it is strange. Apparently it wasn't much of a fight. Just a few blows.'

'The front desk had no idea who the assailant was?'

Pete shook his head. 'A mutant, obviously, but I dunno. I have a bad feeling about this.'

 _'That's no moon.'_

'Something like that,' Pete confirmed without even a hint of laughter in his voice. 'We'll take the next exit and head for the border. Nick will be waiting for us at the X-men's head quarters. He has already talked with that professor Xavier about Logan. I sounds like they are willing to keep him there at least until he comes around.'

'Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters,' I clarified needlessly. 'You know if Nick warned them about him? He might not like finding himself held in some unfamiliar facility.'

Pete chuckled. 'I'd bet he won't. Apparently Xavier had been confident they would manage.'

'I suppose they will. Xavier is a proper telepathic Talent so he won't have any difficulties holding Logan down if he get's out of control.' I sighed and decided I was hungry enough for some breakfast. 'Do we have anything to eat?' I asked.

'Ah,' said Pete sounding apologetic, 'I ate the last sandwich an hour ago. There should be one or two granola bars left there, somewhere. I'm not sure. Maybe in the side pocket of my backpack. I thought we'd have time to stop for a proper breakfast,' he explained defensively.

I reached for his pack and managed to pull it over to my lap. The were two bars in the pocket. 'Apricot. Not my favourite but I'll survive.' I hoisted the pack back. 'Let's get across the border first. We have to stop for gas anyhow at some point.'

'Sounds like a plan.'

I munched through the first bar. Apricot has never been my favourite but the bar tasted mainly of syrup and oat meal. Pete's phone rang again. The front desk called to confirm our route and ETA and Pete was soon off the phone again.

'Can't you please, for all the love of god, change your ringtone?' I pleaded while opening the second bar.

'Why, when it wakes even you up, ma'am?'

I moaned out loud and sat up properly. 'I'm serious. It's enough to drive an enlightened Zen monk round the bend.'

'It's a classic. Haven't you seen _All'Ombra Di Una Colt_?' he said sounding genuinely Italian and gesturing with his hand for emphasis as if he had been born in Napoli.

I laughed. 'I love the Spaghetti Westerns as much as you do, Pete, but that theme song is not their greatest moment. It's no mach to _Fist full of Dollars_ just because it has whistling in it. It just makes it a bad, sad ripoff, you know.'

Pete threw a bright grin at me. 'But it does catch one's ear.'

'It tears one's ears off note by note.'

Pete laughed and I reached for a bottle of water from the back seat. I washed the remains of the syrupy taste from my mouth. 'I share your bad feeling about this,' I said as I put the bottle away, 'He shouldn't have gone down that easily, no matter what the case. The gage fighting last night was not that bad. He practically sustained no damage at all. And he had plenty of rest between the gage and the assault. Something's off.' I yawned and tried to rub the sleep from my eyes. 'I need tea.'

Pete glanced at me. His sympathetic expression told me that I looked as drowsy as I felt. 'Go back to sleep. We won't reach the border for an hour or so. Front desk told that they have a chopper waiting on the U.S. side. It'll ferry us to New York as soon as we get there. You'll need the sleep, ma'am.'

'Why don't they pick us from here?'

'Easier to cross the border this way, they said.'

'We fly across the border all the time!'

Pete shrugged his shoulders. 'Beats me. They just told that we need to drive across this time.'

I sunk back into the seat and let the sleep flood in. 'Something's not right. Something's afoot and I don't like it.'

 _'It's a space station,'_ I heard Pete quote as the slumber overtook me.

* * *

A car and a change of clothes waited us at the end of the chopper ride. Pete changed into a pair of khaki chinos and a pale blue Oxford shirt. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and looked really preppy in his attire. I made a teasing remark on this, saying he was such a dandy, but Pete merely laughed at it agreeing with me. We had landed only a twenty minutes drive away from Xavier's institute and the sunny streets to and through North Salem were quiet. We made good time. Nick was outside Xavier's school waiting for us when we drove up to the mansion. He matched Pete's style with a pair of off-white pants and a navy blue polo shirt. Very nautical. I threw a long glance at both of the boys and rolled my eyes. Nick tossed his sunglasses to the front seat of his classic Mustang through the open window and met us half way to the front door.

'What?' he said.

'Nothing. I just hadn't realised we have a new dress code.'

Nick flashed an amused grin and adjusted my collar. 'You wait outside, Pete. Take a discreet look around the grounds. I need you to take the feel of the place. We have all the surveillance but it's not the same as walking through it,' Nick instructed.

Pete waved his hand in a casual salute. 'Sure thing, sir. I'll wait for you outside.'

'Don't forget there are telepaths around,' I warned him.

'I won't. Shields are staying up,' he shot before taking up the path leading past the facade of the mansion and apparently into the gardens. Xavier might be a proper Talent when it came to his mutation but there were ways to keep a telepath from sneaking into you mind.

'Xavier won't intrude into our thoughts,' Nick said few steps before the front door, 'He's old school, through and through.'

'There are probably others on the grounds.'

Nick glanced over his shoulder towards Pete but he had already disappeared behind the shrubbery. 'True,' Nick admitted and turned to his gaze at the door sizing it up from sill to lintel. 'Let's play ball,' he said before reaching for the bell pull to ring to doorbell. He didn't pull it put right away, however. 'How was he?'

'Logan? In good shape. Physically excellent.'

'Mentally?'

I shrugged my shoulders. 'Hard to say but he seemed more balanced. The gage fighting has done him good. He is more in control.'

Nick pulled the handle and we waited.

'I think we'll find out soon enough,' he said and stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets. 'Any idea why he was taken down so easily?'

I had time only to shake my head and shrug my shoulders as a white haired woman opened to door for us. She greeted us with a genuinely genial smile. 'Hi. And welcome,' she said, 'We've been expecting you. Do come in.' She had a slight African accent to her voice, something resembling Oji's Kenyan tones. Nick returned her greeting and she held the door for us as we stepped through into the entrance hall. The building was a true mansion: walls of mahogany panels, chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, and flower arrangements in antique vases.

'I'm miss Ororo Munroe, teacher and a member of the X-men,' the woman said extending her hand towards Nick once we were in. 'Nice to meet you both,' she repeated.

Nick shook her hand. 'Nick Fury, director of S.H.I.E.L.D. It's my pleasure. This is one of my executive officers, Grace Blair.'

Miss Munroe's handshake was firm but welcoming. 'A pleasure to meet you too,' I said smiling. 'Quite a place you have here. The gardens look breathtaking.'

Miss Munroe was visibly pleased by my take on the gardens. 'Thank you. It takes time to maintain the grounds but I do like it. And I have some excellent gardeners helping me.' She smiled warmly at me before gesturing us to follow her. 'This way, please. Professor Xavier is waiting for you in his study.' She led us down a hallway, the one leading leftwards from the foyer, past huge classical paintings of pastoral scenes with cows and sheep and shepherds and billowing clouds. Few students passed us greeting both miss Munroe and us. She knocked on a door halfway away from the foyer and ushered us to enter without waiting for an answer.

I wondered why she even bothered to knock.

Professor Xavier circled around his desk to meet us. He was bald, older gentleman who would have stood tall, taller than one would think, without the wheelchair. Miss Munroe held back and made her way towards the bay window where she sat down.

'Mr Fury,' Xavier called enthusiastically, 'it is good to see you again!' he declared while offering his hand to Nick.

Nick replied with zeal equal to the bald man's: 'Professor, it has been too long since we last met in person.' They shook hands and Nick introduced me.

'Please, call me Grace,' I said while still holding his hand. He had an easy smile, warm and welcoming, but it was a smile of a man who has seen more than his fair share of the world.

'Grace, I'm delighted to make your acquaintance. Call me Charles. I am also delighted that you could accompany us on such sort notice. Director Fury has told that you are the officer in charge of Logan's case.'

'That's true,' I said as I let his hand go, 'I am delighted to meet you too at last.'

Xavier – Charles welcomed us to sit down and returned behind his desk. He went right into the business. 'We have already discussed Logan's case over the phone with Mr Fury but I would like to hear your view on the matter.'

'What would you like to know?' I wasn't sure what Nick had told him about Logan.

'Nick told that you know him.'

I felt uncomfortable. 'I don't know about knowing him but I guess it's true to a certain degree. I have known him for several years now but we haven't been in contact that often, so I wouldn't say I know him very well. It might be easier if you told me what you already know. I'm not sure what you and Nick have talked about,' I added glancing at Nick.

Charles smiled shortly. It did not help my feelings of uneasiness. 'Very well. That does sound practical. We know of his mutation and of the adamantium on his skeleton. We don't know how old he is or where he comes from. All we know is that he, Logan or Wolverine, lost his memory some fifteen years ago, most likely while the metal was applied to his bones. We do know he is unpredictable and for that, dangerous, and we know there is someone hunting him. Obviously.'

'I can add something to that,' I replied. 'He used to be a soldier, but I, nor him, have no idea who he fought with. He was not part of some national, of an official army. He was a specialist of some sort and most likely a member of a mercenary group. He has absolutely no idea who he really is. His oldest memories are from the experiment that left him with the adamantium, just as you suspected, but before that, nothing much.'

'So we are essentially on the same page,' Charles concluded. I wondered if he knew there were things I had left out.

Miss Munroe had stood up. 'You warned us that he would be dangerous once he wakes up and yet you have asked us to include him into our ranks. Surely S.H.I.E.L.D. could take him in too? Why ask us to risk our students?'

Charles was about to say something but Nick beat him to the point: 'You are right, miss Munroe. Logan is dangerous and we did offer to take him off your hands but professor thought that it would be for the best if he stayed with you.'

'Yes, that is true, Storm,' Charles said as he turned his wheel chair to face her. 'He is one of us, after all. He is a dangerous man, dangerous in ways one would not think, but,' he continued as he glanced nonchalantly at me before looking at miss Munroe, Storm, again, 'he would never hurt the children or you for that matter.'

Storm stared into his eyes defiantly but then relented. 'If you say so, Charles.' I knew he must had communicated his reasons to her telepathically.

'How would you know that?' I demanded, more harshly than I intended.

'I read his mind after they had brought him in, Grace.'

My heart missed a beat. 'What did you see?'

'Please, rest assured that I did not invade his privacy more than I had to. I only read what I needed to know to asses his medical state. Sensations, flashes of memories. More states of minds and feelings than clear memories from his past. Most of his memories are gone or are buried so deep into chasms of his mind that I would not dare to reach for them in fear of serious damage. Few things are clear and solid enough to assure me he will not cause harm to us here, especially to the kids.'

'And you trust your – skill enough?' asked Nick.

Charles turned his eyes at him. There was a certainty to his demeanour that I have seen only with a very few people. 'Yes, I think he is a risk worth taking. And besides, Mr Fury,' he added, 'if you are as serious as you say about finding out who put the adamantium in him, I think leaving him with us will serve you better. We can keep him safe and we, and I, can help him to recover at least some of his memories.'

I knew that was what we had planned all along but I also knew we shouldn't seem too eager agree to it. After all, we had ways to rip his mind open and read all the memories he still possessed. Even the ones that he could not access himself. That would have been the end of him, of course, and I'd be damned if I let anyone do that to one of the Soldiers under my protection as sanctioned by the Code. 'He might not want to stay,' I argued, 'He is headstrong and he seems to think he is better off on his own.'

Charles smiled. 'We would never keep him here against his will,' he said, 'This is something you need to understand: I will never ever keep anyone here against their will. If he chooses to leave, he will be free to do so. We all need to make our own choices. I can only promise I will argue for staying with us. Even for joining the X-men.'

I turned to Nick to see what he was thinking. It was his decision after all. He had rested his elbows on the armrests and was rubbing his upper lip against the joints of his fingers looking like the epitome of a man thinking thoroughly a problem at hand. I felt my the corners of my mouth wanting to curve up into a smile: it was all going according to the plan. If Logan agreed to staying on, we would have him in a place we could keep an eye on him. We hadn't been able to sniff out the enemy partly because Logan had been constantly on the move. Here he would stay relatively stationary.

Nick laid his hands down and smiled at Charles. 'You are right, as usual, professor. Logan is a free man, after all. It would be best if he stayed with you, and we certainly cannot take him with us if we want to find out who's behind all it, but it is up to him. All we ask is that you keep an eye on him in case someone comes after him again. Just be careful and do not hesitate to contact us as soon as something turns up. We will be there for you – with all our resources. One more condition though: I don't want him to know anything about this conversation nor about us being here today. I think it would be best if he thought we had nothing to do with his arrival here. That way he might be more willing to stay.'

'Certainly,' confirmed Charles. Nick stood up and I followed his suit. Charles wheeled from around his desk to bid us farewell. He closed his eyes for a moment. 'Our timing could not be better: he is beginning to come around.'

Nick left the room while I was still shaking Charles hand. Storm (that name seemed to suit her better than calling him miss Munroe) had opened the door for Nick and had exited with him. I thanked Charles for their troubles, present and future ones, and readied myself to leave.

'Grace,' Charles said without letting go of my hand. 'You don't need to worry about him. He will be fine with us.'

'I'm more worried for you than I am for him. He'll manage. He always does.'

Charles smiled again. There seemed to be an endless reservoir of warm, fatherly smiles inside him. 'He has changed. He is not the man he used to be.'

I frowned. 'How do you mean?'

'Like I said, I did not look deep into his mind, but I did see you in there. You have more history between you two than what you told us,' he scolded gently. 'Please, do not worry,' he said when he saw the look on my face, 'I know he fears he is still the man he once was, he fears the beast in him, but he has changed – not entirely, no-one ever will – but he has changed. He does have a heart, a large heart, Grace.'

I averted my eyes. 'You know what happened between us?' I asked quietly.

'No, not exactly. As I said, I only skimmed the surface of his mind.'

I wanted to sit down but dared not to; I needed to leave and quickly.

'Grace, I know he hurt you, badly.' My knees gave up and fell back on the chair. Charles held on to my hands. 'It is alright know. It's all in the past,' he said quietly, 'Grace, trust me on this: he has a large heart, larger than most people will give him credit for.'

'I had a dream about him, years ago,' I explained, 'I went after him following that dream. I thought he needed my help. That's why I went. If I had known,' I inhaled with a ragged breath, 'if I had known who I'd find in that forest I wouldn't have gone.'

Charles closed my hands between his. 'You went because you were needed. Would you do something for me?'

'What?'

'Trust me: he has a larger heart than most will know.'

* * *

The surgical bed was soft. It moulded around the curvature of his muscles hugging his lower back. The bed was warm from his body temperature which told him that he must have been lying there for some time now. The bed that saved him from killing the woman when she came about and tried to take a blood sample from him. The bed kept him calm; a steel slab would have had him blow up in full rage. Instead he had remained still when he had come around, in control even if his systems of self-preservation had been screeching under it. Logan had held still with eyes shut, controlling his breathing and making sure all his muscles had remained relaxed and his limbs passive.

He had remained there for quite a while, listening, smelling, drawing a mental map of the room he was in. He listened to the way the woman's steps moved around the room, where she sat down, how far it was, how far was the cabinet she opened. His upper body was naked and he followed the way the air moved on his skin, how it moved the hairs on his chest and arms. The fact that room had air conditioning was obvious from its soft humming, but the currents of air carried other messages: there were no doors or windows open, there were no heat sources (other than him and the woman) in the room, and if anyone would have managed to get close to him without him hearing or smelling it, he would have felt the currents of that someone's movements on his skin. That split second would have been warning enough.

He was surprised to find out that the woman was alone. It was unwise, stupid, idiotic. _She can't be alone. There's gotta be some kind of surveillance here._ He decided that there had to be cameras watching the room and him since they _(Who the fuck can they be? This place doesn't smell like them.)_ probably knew about his mutation and were aware of the risks that came with it. Maybe they had her locked up with him in here? That's what he would have done to limit the damage and to contain him if he got loose. One nurse was a small cost. Wolverine running around amok was not.

But why was there no restrains on him? They had him just lying on the bed unchecked. That was just asking for trouble. Logan began to enjoy the situation: he would make them pay for their overconfidence. He would capitalise on it abundantly.

 _Come on, fuckers. Let's make a carnage out of it._

He thought it through first, though. He had to have a game plan. He intended to take as many of them down with him as he could. Maybe he would get out alive but he didn't plan with that in mind. Unless and only unless he was the absolutely last man standing, and that was not how he would prefer it. Then again, to be the second to last man standing sounded much more satisfying; knowing that someone would have to live the rest of his (or hers) life with the memories of Wolverine slaughtering everyone else around. He wanted to look into those eyes after they had seen him do what he did best. And he _fully_ intend to let himself loose this time, no self-imposed restrains either, just rage, all of it, every single drop that he had suppressed over the years; all of it, everything he had. He had a good idea about what kind of a person he had been before the memory loss and it wasn't pretty, but this once, for the one last time, he would be that monster. And he would revel in it.

 _The last stand._ He had to suppress the chuckle. _But first I need to get out of this fuckin' lab._

So he let the woman stick a needle into his arm before he jumped up and grabbed her by her throat. He pulled her down with him as he took cover behind the bed. He held onto his grip on her throat, choking her while shielding his body with hers. (Nothing candy-assed about it. Anything goes when it comes to survival. Even kids and grannies. Winning was simply a question of using what you had at hand.) Logan shoved his right hand knuckles against the woman's ribcage ready to impale her without a second thought after she would have become useless. She dug her fingers into his hand as she fought for air. Logan growled into her red hair. She smelled surprised and shocked but not scared, not scared for her live at least. Logan registered it noting somewhere in his mind the strangeness of her reaction, but he had no time to think about it. All he knew was that no-one had come through the door yet.

 _What the fuck is this?_

It had to be a some sort of sick and twisted game. Maybe they wanted to see how he would react, what would he do?

What would he do? Kill the chick? Then what? Storm the door? A steel door? If it was thin enough he could slash through it with his claws in no time at all. Logan sniffed the air. The door wasn't electrified.

 _That could work._

He grinned. What a way to go! He felt electrified as the old beast aroused within him.

 _Be prepared, fuckers. Wolverine is coming your way._

He turned around dragging the woman around with him, hunkered down over her forcing her to the ground. He pressed his knuckles a little harder into her side, twisted her head back a little, just enough to see the expression on her face when his claws would cut into her. She was pretty with her long red hair. If he had time maybe –.

Logan remembered the girl – Marie, or Rogue, as she insisted – and realised his plans would not work. He had promised that he would not cause any harm to come to her and this wasn't it. There was no last stand for him, not this time, not before he had her safe somewhere. Where was she? What had happened to her? He knew the answer to that question all too well and he knew, then, that he had no choice but to get Marie out. One way or the other.

Alive. Or dead.

 _There is mercy in death. Grace._

He abandoned the woman on the floor and leaped at the door. It was open, the goddam door was open, unlocked and there was nobody behind it. Idiotic, pure lunacy, but if he had believed in something other than himself and bad luck, he would have counted his blessings as he slipped out to the corridor. A free pass. Now all he had to do was to find the girl and get her out.

 _Maybe there's still time._

He knew there wasn't but all he could do was to play with the cards had been given, use what ever he came across, and kill those who came in his way. He slunk down the corridor with his bare back caressing the sleek steel walls.

 _This is what I do best._

 _This is what I was manufactured for._

 _So be it._

 _I'm commin' to get you._

 _You're goin' to get a taste of your own medicine._

He loped down the corridor with his feet bare. He liked being bare footed. It made his movements feel more natural, animalistic, and primal. His senses heightened and he felt sharp. The world slowed down as he became increasingly aware of his surroundings and of his own body in it.

There was nobody in the corridors. He couldn't smell anyone. In fact, the most recent scent marks were an hour or so old. He couldn't hear anyone in the closed rooms he passed by and he saw no signs of activity anywhere, not even CCTV cameras in the ceilings. Nothing. He didn't like that at all. Everything was too clean. The metal-clad corridors were too sterile showing no signs of their occupants. He slowed down. Something was up. Something was not right in here. He had to be heading into a some kind of trap but he didn't have much of a choice. Logan grinned briefly: at least a trap would mean there was one helluva fight waiting him in the end.

The corridor joined a wider one that at one end, at the end to his right, was closed off with a round massive door resembling a door of a vault. To his left the corridor widened to form a kind of a foyer. He headed that way, towards the glass cabinets and found weird-looking black uniforms behind the glass doors. He gave them a quick once-over before peeking into a partly open solid cabinet. There were sweat suits in there and he grabbed a hoodie to cover his naked torso. The air was pleasantly cool and the adrenalin kept him warm, but running around half naked made him too obvious. With the hoodie he might be able to get past unsuspecting eyes if he managed to keep it quiet.

He was just about to continue along the corridor when he suddenly heard distant voices sounding alarm and the sound of running feet heading his way. He darted back towards the corridor leading back to the lab but someone was already there too; his keen ears picked up hushed voices. He planted his feet to the ground with his back against the cool wall.

 _Let's get on with it then, fuckers!_

He clenched his hands into fists and let the claws out.

Suddenly the wall behind him slid aside revealing a tiny room or a closet behind him. He peaked around it quickly, saw nothing at first but then noticed a row of push buttons on the wall. The room was a lift, a seemingly lucky chance of escape, but he hesitated. His paranoia had served him well over the years and this was not gift horse he was willing to ride without checking its teeth first. He pulled back, wavered at the door. Somebody shouted right behind the corner to his left and he knew that he would have to fight his way out if he stayed in the corridors. Tempting but stupid. He needed to get off this floor and he jumped inside the lift. The door closed on its own right behind him and the lift headed up before he had a chance to hit the buttons. _Might be automated_ , he thought without being able to convince himself. He knew he was being herded.

The lift halted and Logan took position right next to the door with his back against the wall. He slid down along the wall to his haunches and readied himself against the oncoming assault. If his opponents had any common sense they would open fire at him the moment the door opened. Or slightly before that if they were really clever. A hefty burst of concentrated fire, preferably form heavy assault rifles, with exploding rounds, would slow him down considerably. He might be practically immortal and his body was able to fix itself with unbelievable speed, but it would be hard to stand up with the muscles on his legs shot to mincemeat and with his guts hanging out. Immortality did not denote indestructibility.

The door slid open silently and he waited. Nothing happened. Logan peeped out quickly. Again the corridors were empty. Not a single soul to be seen anywhere. Lot's of scents though, mixing into each other in a cacophony of a crowd. Many, no, most of the scents were young, some juvenile, some in their puberty. Logan knitted his brows in deep concentration. What was this place? Where was him? He pulled back inside the lift and took a deep breath. Right. He might not know where he was but he knew he couldn't stay inside the lift any longer. He took another peep out and slunk out into the corridor. Nothing happened. _I don't like this shit._

He was above the ground now. There were huge windows along and at the end of the corridor, and he could see the gardens outside. He tried two, three windows but they were all locked and he didn't want to draw any attention to himself by forcing or even smashing one open unless he had to. He kept on going, passing closed doors and solid wood chests of drawers and other pieces of antique furniture with vases of flowers and candelabras on them. The difference between the floors down and above the ground could not have been more striking. _Where the hell am I? What is this place?_

He reached a corner of the building where the corridor joined with a larger one. This one had paintings, huge canvases hanging along it. Countryside landscapes with billowing clouds and gusts of wind tearing through the trees. Logan slowed his pace. The size of the corridor suggested that it was one leading to an entrance, hopefully to a side entrance. He kept close to the inner wall even when the bright sunlight through the windows lit him up brightly. The outer wall was more shadowy but every time he would move across a window he would have been visible from the outside. He was beginning to think he might have escaped notice. He didn't foolishly think his escape had gone unnoticed but perhaps, just perhaps they didn't know where exactly in the building he was. If that was the case, he wanted to keep it that way for so long as possible. He needed to find Marie.

Something familiar caught his nose and he stopped dead on his tracks. He was just about to try to figure out what it was when a thunder of foot steps flew past him above his head. An unorganised group of people were hurrying along the corridor above him on the next floor. Logan realised they were heading towards the flight of stairs to his right but before he had time to find a hiding place he heard laughter and running feet heading towards him from behind too. He jumped behind a pillar hoping it was wide enough to hide him. A small group kids run past him.

 _Where the fuck am I? What is this?_

He lost precious seconds staring after the kids and realised he had no time to avoid the larger group now running and jumping down the stairs. Logan leaped over a sofa towards the nearest door and opened it blindly. He sidled in without bothering to check if the room was occupied or not. He closed the door as quickly and quietly as possible and held his breath. The group of young voices scuttled past the door and he turned around to check out the room. There was a bunch of kids sitting in front of a solid oak desk and staring at him. An older bald man sat behind the desk with an absurdly friendly smile on his face.

'Hello, Logan,' the man said.

Logan could only stare at him with his mouth open.

'I think our lesson for today is over, students,' the man said to the kids, 'Don't forget your homework assignment.' The children closed their books, gathered their things, and walked calmly but quickly past Logan. Logan followed them with his eyes and caught their sidelong, intrigued glances. The last one, a tall lanky girl forgot his shoulder back and spun back to grab it hurriedly. Logan watched her jog past him and straight through the door as it if wasn't there at all.

'What is this place?' Logan blurted. 'Where the hell am I?' he demanded turning towards the bald-headed man.

'Welcome to my school for the gifted, Logan,' the man answered as he moved around his desk in his wheelchair.

* * *

Logan kept on watching the kids play basket ball on the other side of the well kept grass clearing. One of them was cheating by teleporting and catching the ball he had just passed himself. The others protested without being truly angry about the boy's shenanigans. Logan smiled. The kids had it good here. Even he could tell that much. It was, in many ways, a nice place. A bit pompous on the inside but he could still appreciate the aesthetics of the mansion even if he personally would have chosen something different. For many of the kids it was a haven, a heaven even, a dream come true at the least, and Logan could appreciate that.

'Give me a few hours to think about it, will ya,' he said and returned to the bench. Charles, who had insisted on having Logan call him Charles, sat in his wheelchair next to the bench.

'Of course. I would not expect you to decide on something like this without considering it carefully,' the bald man said. 'but at the same time I have to ask you not to think about it for too long. Events are unfolding as we speak. Events that might catch us by surprise.'

Logan grunted in agreement. 'They already caught me by surprise.' He leaned back and squinted in the sun. It was a warm day, especially after the chilly spring days far up in the North. 'You'll have my answer by the evening.'

'Good,' Charles said cheerfully. 'Come to see me before dinner. We will talk more then.' He turned his wheelchair around and started to head back towards the main building.

'What about Grace?' Logan called after him. 'I smelled her in your office.'

Charles halted his chair and turned around. 'Yes, she was here earlier today.'

Logan swallowed; he thought he could detect a hint of apprehension in the bald man's voice. 'Why was she here?'

'They had someone keeping an eye on you, as I am sure you knew.'

'Yeah. She did tell me that.'

'She knew we had brought you here. She wanted to know if you were unharmed.'

Logan laughed nervously. 'Sure, right. She was worried about me.'

'She was.'

Logan did have a retort in store. He stood up purposefully and walked over to Charles. 'Who is she?' he asked.

'You know as much as me,' Charles replied, 'She is a member of the S.H.I.E.L.D., an operational officer to be exact, but that is not what you are asking, is it?'

'No,' Logan confessed after a while. He was pretty sure Charles wasn't telling him everything but he was getting used to secrets and hidden agendas. Logan had learnt that uncovering secrets was in many ways similar to hunting: you just had to wait patiently and opportunities would present themselves. 'That's not what I was askin'. I what to know what she is.'

Charles took his time. 'She is an enigma, I grant you that. There is a connection between you two, that much I know.'

Logan felt his muscles twitch involuntary but was able to compose himself before the reaction to Charles's words reached surface and became apparent. 'Really?' he said instead with arrogance.

Charles let the matter drop. 'I must return inside now. There is a call I need to make. We will talk more over dinner.'

'Sure thing. I'll let you know what I have decided.'

Charles smiled in return and left. Logan listened to the sound of Charles's wheelchair moving on along the gravel pathway. The kids had stopped playing and were talking with the red-haired woman Logan had been introduced to earlier, the same he had come close to killing in the infirmary after he had woken up. Jean Gray. _Jeannie_. Logan watched her push a rebelling lock of her long, luscious red hair from her face. She reminded him of someone he had used to know a long, long time ago. Then again, many red heads did but she seemed to be different somehow. _Closer to the original, whoever that might've been,_ he thought. Jean said something to the kids and left. Logan watched approvingly the way her hips swayed as she walked away, back towards the mansion.

Logan sat down on the bench again and closed his eyes as he leaned back stretching his legs out. He folded his arms over his chest and let his mind wander. The sun had moved and the shade of the tree under which the bench lay now reached over him offering cool protection from the sun. He felt the moisture the hot sunlight was drawing out from the tree. It cooled the bare skin of his arms and face, and the sensation made him smile contently. In his life it were the little things that counted most.

'Glad to see you're enjoying yourself, Logan.'

Logan opened his eyes and lifted his head up. Pete had appeared from nowhere and was standing by the bench with his back turned to sitting Logan. Logan pulled his feet in and sat up. The younger Soldier had appearance had escaped Logan's notice and it pissed him off. 'Yeah. The scenery was exquisite until now.'

Pete snorted at that and sat down right next to Logan. Logan knew the intrusion into his personal space was intentional. 'So I noticed,' Pete retorted. 'I understood she's already spoken for.'

Logan let the remark slide. He had learned over the years he remembered that things like that were of little consequence. He got what he wanted if he wanted it hard enough. 'Grace left you to baby sit me.'

Pete grinned but then cut the amusement from his face sharply. 'No, this is on me alone.'

'Right. So you decided to make sure I keep my distance.' Pete said nothing and Logan took that as a sign he had been right. 'Relax, bub. She has nothin' to worry about from me. I know she's – off limits.' _Unlike the red head_. The scar in his neck begun to throb unexpectedly and he rubber it with his fingers.

'I'm here to make sure you pay what you owe to her,' Pete stated nonchalantly. Logan recognised the confidence Blue Eyes had in himself.

Logan grit his teeth together but agreed: 'Yeah, and that's what I intend to do.'

'By keeping your hands off her? You owe her more than that.'

That stung. _Blue Eyes is right._ 'True. I offered to let her cut my head off but she declined.'

Pete sighed. 'She had to. She can take no revenge on you. The Code prohibits her from doing that. She doesn't enjoy the same liberties as you and I do. You need to find another way to recompense her.'

'What the fuck is that, The Code?' Logan challenged. He turned to face the man Grace had told was of the same genetic stock.

'She told you we are Soldiers, didn't she?'

'Don't get us mixed up. I'm only a crossbred bastard of a Soldier.'

'Makes no difference,' Pete said quietly, 'We both still fall under her command. We all fall under her command, every Solder on our side at least.'

Logan grunted. 'I don't give a flyin' fuck about that. You might but I was never one of you.'

'Brother, it doesn't work like that,' Pete explained with patience. 'We are genetically linked to each other. We are not just brothers in arms but by genetics. You might count as a half brother but it doesn't change the fact that you are a member of our family and we all owe her everything we have. And she owes us equally in return. That's why she cannot take her revenge on you.'

'She owes me nothin',' Logan said tiredly.

Pete leaned his elbows on his knees. 'Look, it's kind of a package deal: we do what she asks us to do. What ever it is, not questions asked. In return she does what ever we need off her.'

Logan squinted disapprovingly. 'How do you mean what ever we need?'

'Fuck, you have a filthy imagination. No, I don't mean it like that.' Pete hesitated and thought further about what he meant. 'Hmm, I suppose it could mean that too but it's not how it works. She can give us something more important, more desirable. She can give us death in the end. She is our Angel of Death, if you will. She can give us something only very, very few people can and because of that she is – sacred to us. She has to remain undefiled.'

That didn't simply sting. 'It's kinda too late for that,' Logan pointed out and stood up. The gardens were empty now. His keen hearing did not pick up any other human sounds in their vicinity. He heard Pete stand up too. The younger Soldier came to stand next to Logan.

'It's not a question of what somebody does to her but what she does to others.' Pete remained quiet for a moment. 'Okay. The thing is, we were bred on purpose, Logan. Not a single gene inside is accidental. If was, we would've never made it this far. We wouldn't have even born. We were designed for a particular purpose, to fill a role in the Verse.'

'Verse?' Logan interrupted.

'Universe but never mind about that. All you need to know is that we were designed to be killers, relentless hunters, and the ultimate survivalists. That's basically all there is to us. She, on the other hand,' Pete continued as he scratched his jawline under his ear, 'she was chosen. The skills she has, her Talents, were a natural occurrence. At some point of her earlier life the Regents asked if she would be willing to become a Marshal and she, for what ever reasons, accepted. She was genetically modified after that. He healing was enhanced for one thing. Nothing major, though. Mostly little things here and there.'

Pete paused and Logan seized the opportunity. 'So what exactly is she?'

Pete threw a sidelong glance at him. 'You meant what a Marshal is?'

'That too.'

'Marshals are exactly what the word means. They are our commanders. Each Marshal has a contingent of Soldiers under his or her command. How many Soldiers depends on the case. Their authority is absolute and each Soldier answers only to his or her commander. Nobody else. The flip side of the coin is that all Marshals are accountable for the actions of the Soldiers under their command. If we fuck up, it's on them. So you see, it's a two way street.'

Logan chewed over Pete's words. 'Sounds fucked up. So what ever she asks you to do, you'd do it without thinkin'?'

'Sure. That's what I'm here for.' Pete didn't hesitate but Logan sensed the discomfort the man felt.

'You'd do that even if you disagreed on it?'

'Yup.'

Logan let the idea sink in. What he had done to Grace he had done simply because someone in charge had asked if he would be willing to. He had agreed without further thought. _Maybe it wasn't me who agreed to that. Maybe it was the programmin' in me that agreed_. He wasn't sure if that had any ethical consequences at all.

Logan sat down again; Pete remained standing and Logan stared at his back. The boy was not as innocent as he looked, quite the contrary, Logan suspected. Blue Eyes had probably done hideous things, things he didn't like, because a Marshal had commanded them. 'You've done bad things too, son,' Logan said a bit more mockingly than he had intended to.

Pete turned around. 'You have no idea,' he said and sat down. 'The point is that Grace or any other Marshal has to remain compassionate. The power and force they wield in this Verse is unimaginable. They just cannot be allowed to misuse it, but since they are who they are they cannot be simply be forced into following some arbitrary rules. The rules has to be instilled into them. Their capabilities have to have absolute boundaries and that's where the Code of Conduct comes in. Every marshal-to-be goes through a training regime that last a century. Only a handful of each lot survives. Literally a hand full. Grace once told me that there where 257 disciples who entered the training with her. Only seven made it.'

'What happened to others?'

'She didn't say. There are rumours but nobody outside knows for sure what happens during the training. I think most simply didn't survive.' Pete sighed. 'Anyway, she has to remain compassionate. You don't want to know what a rogue Marshal without any ethical hinderances can accomplish.'

Logan suspected that there had been cases like that. He knew how absurdly loose his limits where when it came to violence. He had an idea what an army of Soldiers like himself would be capable of. 'I don't need to guess.'

'I suppose you don't.'

'So in essence you do their dirty work for them.'

'You could say so, but it stains us. Despite all the breeding and training I'm still a human being. Barely, maybe, but still. Things I have done have left their mark on me. One day it'll be too much dirt and blood on me. That's when she'll come in.'

 _Coup de grâce._ 'It that why you call he Grace?'

Pete chuckled. 'No, it's just a name but it's fitting. There's no denying that.'

Logan understood the point; he had already, even if unknowingly, requested that from her. 'Right, I get that. I still don't get how she can't take my life as a payment.'

'Your life is yours to give but not hers to take. If she kills you for her own personal reasons she does it without compassion. There can be no exceptions.'

'And if she'd do it anyhow?' Pete didn't answer. _That serious?_ Logan thought. 'I guess I need to find another way to settle the score.'

'Yeah, you do,' Pete said and stood up. He straightened the hem of his pale blue button-up shirt. 'Make sure you do.'

'Or else?' Logan asked with sneer.

'She's been a Marshal for much longer than you can imagine. There are limits to her endurance too.' Pete looked down at Logan and straight into his eyes. Logan met his stare eye to eye. 'Don't pile any more shit on her. You've done enough harm.' Pete said quietly. 'Think about what she means to you and act accordingly. She might not touch you. I wouldn't mind.'

Logan blinked and Pete straightened into his full length. Logan thought Pete might have something more to say, some more threats to make, but Pete simply walked away. Logan stared after him with a frown on his face. _This is bullshit. 'Act accordingly?'_ He leaned back against the bench's backrest and stretched his feet out again. Logan closed his eyes defiantly. _Why the hell did I say no to her back at her cabin?_

 _I would have saved her from so much pain if had had the balls to die right there and then_

* * *

The next chapter will take place after the first movie so go ahead and watch it! :D


	2. Chapter 16 – First Light

**16\. First Light**

 _He dreamt of her._

 _He dreamt on himself holding her hair in his hand, and she was lying under him, on her back, facing him. He dreamt the sun on his back was hot, blazing even, and that susurration of the wind in the tall grass in which they lay filled his ears. He had his leg between her thighs and her leg was thrown over his, and their knees interlocked binding them together. He dreamt that he felt her bare ankle rest against his calf and that he smiled as he wound a lock of her hair around his fingers. She smelled divine; the smell of moist earth entangled with the sweet, sweet aroma of the prairie grasses. He sunk his fingers deeper into her hair, cupped the back of her head in his hand and pulled her closer to him. He kissed her under her ear, breathed in her scent and rubbed his cheek against the side of her throat. He moved to kiss her but her hair had fallen over her face. Logan tried to lift it from her, tried to push it aside so that he could see her, but his fingers got twisted in the hair and instead of pushing it aside he wrenched her head sideways._

 _He dreamt he had not meant to do that, that he had never meant to hurt her, but somehow she had turned around under him and her left ear was now pressed against the floor, her head was pinned down by his hand. Her eye was bruised and swollen shut and her hair was no longer like silk between his fingers. He lifted his torso and peered down under his shoulder and along her body. She was naked and filthy, so disgustingly dirty with dark stains covering her bare skin, and he had his fatigues down around his ankles. Somewhere deep under his dreaming mind he wanted to puke._

 _Logan wanted to let go of her but his fingers would not open. He bit his teeth together, tried to force his fingers to unlock, but he only managed to push the claws out and they came dangerously close to her skull. He knew he was dreaming but her dark, foul, revolting locks crawled up his fingers and around his wrist like snakes bitting into his flesh, bleeding him as they bound the two of them together. Sickly yellow froth foamed from the mouths of the snakes, poison that burned on his skin. He felt himself lowering his weight down on her, his full weight that forced the air from her lungs as his face came close to hers._

' _Don't,' he dreamt himself say, 'You be a good girl and don' t make me fuck you up any more than I want to.' Something fell to pieces when he said that, something inside her or inside him, he couldn't tell which, but something, somewhere fell apart. That much he knew. Something was lost. Something he had known before._

 _His fingers let go of her hair (or the hair let go of him) and he knew it was a mistake, the last thing he should do. He tried to get hold of the dream, tried to force his will on it, tried to make it follow another path. It didn't work. The man he had been then was beyond his will and he couldn't wake up. Not this time, not like he woke up when he dreamt of the adamantium. In this dream there was no pain in him, no unbearable agony in his bones that would wake him up when his mind could no longer cope with it, and without that he was forced to dream the dream through, to relive._

 _He woke up when the dream-him walked through the door of the cell but not before a quick, sly glance over his shoulder at her. She had dark hair now, not red like she had had at first._

* * *

Logan eyed the cabin cautiously. She was in. He could tell it by the recently shovelled snow and by a car parked next to the paddock fence. A huge four-by-four, an old Land Rover maybe. He was too far away and it was still to dark to tell if it was a Rover, and besides, he had never been interested in cars enough to learn the makings of different brands. It was huge. It was an off-road car. It had four big wheels and ample ground clearance. There was snow on the bonnet, so she hadn't been out and about with that since yesterday.

Logan cleared his throat. It might turn out to be an okay day: sunshine and a fresh blanket of snow that had fallen during the night. A bit chilly considering the spring was just around the corner, but he liked that. Hot southern weather had never –as far as he knew – been his cup of tea. He preferred the chilly kind, the early autumn, when leaves had turned and you could smell the coming winter in the air even at noon. _Spring ain't that bad either but I kinda like the comin' of winter._

The smell of snow reminded him of the first night he had spent under her roof. He had wanted to kill her then and maybe, just maybe he should have. He still didn't know. What he did know was that that urge to kill had perhaps been his unconsciousness remembering something of their connection. Maybe it had tried to warn him, had tried to make him wipe away tracks that could lead to him. Or to dispose the memories before he could remember them.

 _Fuck that._ His desire to kill her had probably had nothing to do with anything else but him being what he was. No matter how hard she had tried to prove otherwise. The things he was good at were not exactly nice and cuddly. There was no white picket fence and a golden retriever puppy waiting him at the end. _A fuckin' razor wire, that's what it'll be._

Logan sighed. He knew he ought to decide soon if he really was going to go and see her. He knew she could see his vehicle from her windows. If she hadn't noticed him by now, she soon would, and it would make her nervous if he stayed there for much longer. Lurking about was not the way to go about here.

He took his hands from the steering wheel and stuffed them into the pockets of his leather jacket. To be honest, he wasn't completely sure why he was here at all. Sure she had said he could stop by anytime but, well, would you do that after what he had learned about himself? Fuck no. He wasn't on her guest list, he knew that, not really. Nice people say nice things even when they really don't mean what they say.

That's the trouble with nice people.

Was she nice people?

 _Fuck that._ _Nice has nothin' to do with this._

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Pete had told he was hers and that she was theirs. Soldiers. Weird shit but after what he had seen with the X-men (Logan couldn't help smiling at the bunch and their uniforms), lots of weird shit had suddenly become something almost normal; 'ordinary' had gained a new meaning in his vocabulary. He thought about the girl, Marie. Now she was weird shit, what a fucked up mutation to have. One helluva weapon, for sure, but how could one live with that kind of disability? He wouldn't be able to cope. He was a contact animal. He needed personal, bodily, intimate contact even if on the other hand he was a happy loner, a lone rider that disappeared into the sunset. (He wondered briefly why the hell it was into the setting sun? You would have to be a particularly dumb fuck to leave a warm bed, a bed warm in more than one way, and a hot meal, and ride into the cold, lonesome, dark night? You leave in the morning. Any sane man would wait till the morning.) But no matter how much of a hermit he was, he did need a dose of intimacy regularly. It was one of the things that kept him from going off the deep end.

One more thing the prizefighting had taught him.

Thoughts of intimacy made him think about the redhead, Jean, and he grinned briefly as he thought about the sight of her getting out of the swimming pool, the water running from her hair and along her back, and those hips and ass swaying as she walked towards the women's locker room. Logan shook his head. That too was weird, him pining over a woman he could never have. He was not used to that, to a woman refusing him. Maybe that was why she tempted him so much. He had to admit there was a twisted kind of satisfaction to it, to a hunt deemed inherently unfruitful.

Logan opened his eyes and stared at the roof of the car. The lining was dull grey and blotched in places.

 _I really need to see her_ , he thought as he stared at lining. _Why the fuck do I need to see her? Why the fuck don't I leave her be?_

He didn't get it. Or he did get it, why he was concerned about Grace. He owed her. For saving him and for promising him death, but most of all for all the unspeakable shit he had done to her. Marie, the simple fate of meeting her and all that had followed, had made him see that he actually had deserved all the pain and suffering he had experienced. That he had no right to pass it on to someone else – not anymore. The pain – the nightmares and the haunting memories – were his purgatory. That was the price he was meant to pay for having been the man he had been and who he still was in his heart of hearts. But that was not enough, not by far. The evil he had been, all the evil deeds he remembered or knew he had committed, and all that evil he did not remember but knew had to be there and all the evil that was still to come – no amount of pain could lustrate his soul from that. Pete was right: he belonged to her now (maybe he had always belonged to her) – even if she didn't knew it. Anyhow, he was sure that given a choice she would not have him.

It wasn't that simple, though. He loved Marie like a little sister, even like a daughter. He knew something of her loneliness, of the isolation she was forced carry with her, and he knew she knew that. And Marie knew him for what he was, she had survived his claws and seen his dreams, lived through some of them. He owed Marie for that too. Nobody ought to go through that pain. Thankfully only some of his dreams had passed onto Marie when she had used his mutation to cure herself and none of them had been the dreams he had of Grace. The girl knew his true nature and still loved him. They were two of a kind after a fashion and it connected them in ways only a few others could know.

' _We few, we happy few.'_

 _She knows_ , Logan thought and sought out the living room window with his eyes. He knew her pain too. It was time to take some of that pain back on him where it belonged.

Logan got out of the car and slammed the door shut but something held him still. He leaned his palms against the roof and sunk his head between his shoulders. _Chickenshit. You gutless fuckin' wimp._ How come he could take a bullet in the belly any time he needed to or stab himself in the chest without much thought, but suddenly he couldn't handle this shit at all? How hard could it be? What's the worst thing that could happen? She would throw him out? Separate his head from his shoulders and kill him? Be cold and distant and filled with wrath? He stared at the snowy ground for a while longer and decided that what was most likely to happen was that she simply just would not answer the door and that would be just fine with him.

 _You fuckin' sentimental wimp._

Logan straightened his back and headed for the house though he's rather be walking to stand in front of a firing squad. He snorted at the thought and wondered how many times he might had done that – and survived. _Now why don't I remember any shit like that? Why it's all pain and perversion and nothin' grand and magnificent? Just guts and no glory at all._ Maybe it just wasn't in his lot.

Logan dragged his feet through the snow and watched how small piles of snow formed on the toes of his boots. He could take four steps before the piles grew too big and fell off.

 _Maybe there really was no glory but just guts and carnage. Maybe that's all there is and ever was._

The were fresh tire tracks on the snow. That meant that somebody had been there this morning. Logan walked along them trying to keep his eyes off the ground and his head high; she might be watching and he didn't want to came off as skittish. He forced his shoulders to relax and his legs to carry on as if he owned the land he walked on. In fact, this _was_ his territory, he reminded himself. He had fought, bled and killed on it, engaged his enemy and prevailed on it. It _was_ his, it was _his_ killing ground.

The thought made him feel taller as he walked between the barn and the four-by-four. The barn door had been left slightly ajar, and the darkness inside stared at and followed him as he walked past. He felt it on his back as he skipped over the few steps right on the verandah; he felt its amorphous, resenting eye bore between his shoulders. The roof extended over him shading him from the rising winter sun and the shade diluted the hoovering darkness a little, but the feeling of being watched never lifted completely. He knocked on the door before the hesitation could turn into doubt that would have stopped his knuckles from reaching the wood. At first he heard nothing from the house and a little voice in the back of his head was ready to pronounce that no-one was in and he could just walk away. Then someone did strode across the living room and opened the door before Logan had a chance to act on the fact that the footsteps he was hearing were not hers.

It was Pete who opened the door looking slightly pleased but not much surprised.

'I thought you'd never make it.'

Logan stared at the blue-eyed man. 'What the fuck are you talkin' about?'

Pete grinned and gestured towards the car with his head. 'Across the yard. You did take your time, brother.'

Logan said nothing to that.

'She's not in.'

'Right,' Logan wasn't sure how to respond. He stood still for a second or two until the uneasiness reached some threshold, mumbled 'Never mind,' and turned around without another word.

'She's at the Alkali Lake, left there early this morning.'

Logan stopped on his tracks and turned half way around back towards the man at the door. 'Alkali Lake?'

'Yup. She went there to check on some – rumours.' Pete looked thoughtful for a second. 'She'll be there all day. You'll find her there somewhere around the dam.'

Logan turned his back at Pete and stared across the yard. Weird coincident: he had intended to pay a visit to the old, abandoned facility on the shores of the Alkali Lake too. Charles as suggested that after he had recovered from touching Marie on top of the Lady Liberty. He turned back to Pete. 'She won't mind me showin' up there?'

Pete didn't reply immediately. 'Yes, she will. Don't take her by surprise. Let her see you coming.'

 _Take her_. Logan thought Blue Eyes could have chosen his words more carefully. 'Yeah, right. I'll keep that in mind.'

Pete begun the close the door. 'But I think she'll know you're there well before you have located her. Good luck, brother.' The door closed before Logan had a chance to ask what the younger man had meant.

Logan thought about Alkali Lake on his way back to the borrowed car he was driving. Charles had thought there might be something there, some connection to his forgotten past. Logan hadn't been too convinced by the bald man's words. He had said he would visit the place, that he would go and see if being there in person would trigger some memory in his fucked up mind or not, but he hadn't fully committed to the idea of visiting the obscure lake. Logan walked past the barn doors. He smelled the horses inside and caught a whiff of recently greased leather tack. He growled at himself and pushed past the building onwards to his car. If Grace had gone there then maybe there was something tangible to Charles' intel.

Local reached the car and found he had locked the doors without realising it. He searched his pockets two times before he found the keys, cursed himself just before finding them and thrusted the key in angrily. Now he had to go there. Previously he had hoped, somewhere in his mind, that she would just reject his visit and he would be free to just disappear into the less travelled northern roads without bothering to check out the Alkali Lake lead. _Fuck the X-men and their ridiculous ideals_ , he had thought, though in reality he had know he would eventually return to see how Marie was holding on.

He started the engine and drove a loop around the yard to turn the car around. Pete appeared at the door and yelled something just as he was passing the house. Logan stopped and opened the window on the passenger's side. Pete strode across the porch and stuck a bundle of something through the window and on the vacant seat.

'Give that to her. The forecast just changed and there's some heavy snowing coming our way later. It's some extra clothing in case she gets snowed in.'

Logan pushed the bundle closer to the back rest. 'Sure thing.' Pete's head disappeared from the view as he stood up. Logan called after him and Blue Eyes reappeared at the window. 'What if I don't find her?' he asked from Blue Eyes, 'I probably won't return this way.'

Pete smiled. 'I guess you'd better find her then. I'm counting on you here. We can't just leave her to fend herself against the elements, now can we? And besides, you owe her.'

Logan had nothing to say to that.

'Right then, Soldier. Off you go.' Pete drummed the roof of the car with his hands and disappeared into the house before Logan managed to object. He glared at the bundle shortly. _Errand boy. The clever bastard turned me into an errand boy._ He hammered the clutch down, revved the engine when he had it in gear and speeded unnecessarily down the driveway. _Sneaky fuckin' bastard._

* * *

The clouds were hanging low. Logan leaned forward over the steering wheel and peered at the dull grey sky above the road. No sun today, the sky was completely overcast; It would snow before the day was done. The clouds were plump and seemed to be weighting down the landscape below. Logan sat up again and grunted at no-one in particular. He didn't need the snow right now, especially the heavy snowing that the clouds heralded. It would cover all tracks, muffle all sounds and swathe scents and smells under it. He reached for the bundle of clothes Pete had trusted him with and made sure it was still there on the passenger seat. He'd better find her soon, before the roads would become impassable and before the nightfall.

He was almost at the abandoned facility. Still a mile or two to go along the lake and through the dark, thick forest of tall spruces. Logan kept his eyes on the road most of the time; somebody was keeping it open during the winter but that someone had not ploughed it since it had snowed last time. There was densely packed snow and ice below the freshly fallen one, and he had to be careful not to lose the control of the car. The studded tires under his car were too old and too worn out to have a comfortable grip on road conditions like this. A crash, naturally, would not kill him, but he wouldn't want to lose his transportation here, miles from anywhere.

And he needed to get to her.

The first flakes were already drifting down.

* * *

It took him another hour to reach the facility by the Alkali Lake. He left the car just inside the main gate of the complex. The heavy duty steel bar doors had been forced open at some point and they had been left bent and twisted with one of them lifted off of its hinges and propped up against its post. Her car was there too, parked behind a thicket of young spruces as if she had meant to hide it from plain sight. Logan peered through the door window on the driver's side. There was a map on the passenger seat but not much else. He returned to his own car, popped the trunk and put on the down feather winter parka he had bought for the trip. He did like the cold but he had no intention to freeze to death though he wasn't sure if that could actually happen. It might, being frozen over kind of didn't leave much room for breathing and a beating heart or regenerating cells, but it would be slow, slow way to go and he had his mind set on a more swift method of losing his mortal coil for good. He took the rucksack that he always had ready with supplies and gear. He double-checked that he had matches and that the axe was firmly secured to the side of the backpack. Sure he could cut firewood with his claws but they were not exactly the most practical tool for that job: the angles were odd. They had been designed for chopping up something completely different.

He threw the rucksack over his shoulders, adjusted the shoulder straps and secured the hipbelt tightly so that most of the weight would be carried on his hips and not on his shoulders. There were mittens somewhere in the trunk, he was sure he had taken a pair with him. He found them in the pocket of his parka with a knit cap that he pulled on his head and down over his ears. He noticed a plastic bag, pulled it out from under his spare boots, shook it a little in case it had dried mud on it and stuffed Pete's bundle into it. He decided to carry it in his hand. It didn't weigh much and it wouldn't sit easily on the rucksack. He hated odd bundles and gear dangling half loose, swaying about and messing with his balance if he had to run.

Logan shut the trunk and looked around. It had been snowing for a while now, not yet too heavily but enough to make it unclear how old any tracks would be. He shrug his shoulders, readjusted the shoulder straps and looked for any tracks leading away from her car. It wasn't too hard. There was only one place where the winter's worth of Canadian snow had been trampled on at all. He followed them towards the facility itself, across what must once had been a car park and towards the inner entrance to the compound. He kept his ears open for any sounds but the silence was absolute except for the soft, quiet, almost inaudible puffs the large snowflakes made as they hit the ground. His own steps sounded alarmingly loud as the tiny snow crystals ground against each other and broke under his feet. It was mesmerising how something so teeny and fragile could produce something so loud.

 _Not all things die quietly in the night. You know that._ Somehow the thought made him grin.

The light was already changing. Everything was turning into blue that in time would deepen into a strangely uniform cobalt hue, into a shadowless tint that would swallow all other colours. Most evenings that would last even an hour or two but not tonight. Logan looked up. The clouds were heavy with snow, _pregnant_ with the stuff as he had seen some writer describe skies like that. No blue hour tonight. The snow fall was getting thicker and it would before long suffocate the evening light. He needed to find her soon if he wanted to be back on the road before the dark.

Her tracks reached the gate. Logan tried matching his steps into hers to save some effort but her gait came an inch or so shy of his and he gave up after a few awkward steps. He cursed, halted and looked around him. The place was a wreck. There was blast marks on the walls, even bullet holes, and a fire had gotten loose at some point. Logan's heart sunk. That surprised him somewhat: he hadn't thought he had harboured any hopes for the place. He looked around once more and grunted as he surrendered himself to the fact that the place was not going to lead him anywhere. All that was left to do was to find her and get out. Maybe he would return to the old geezer and his prizefighters again.

 _Right. Enough of that._

Logan looked down at his feet and wiggled his toes. He should have worn warmer socks but he was sure he would survive.

I found a wolf watching him as he looked up. It stood some steps ahead of him right on Grace's tracks looking at him with its head low and tail slightly raised. It was a nice looking animal, a well fed bitch as far he could tell from its scent. The wolf kept an eye on him, not looking straight into his eyes but eying him with sidelong glances. He returned the favour, lifted his chin a bit before turning his head away and offering the animal his profile. The wolf responded by rising its head a little as it turned around and begun to jog away along the path Grace had ploughed into the snow. Logan watched it feeling slightly jealous of the lightness of the animal's step. The wolf halted, glanced over its shoulder directly at him and opened its mouth, licked its lips and panted soundlessly. It looked ahead the tracks, then glanced at Logan again, and he knew it was asking him to follow.

 _It's gonna take me to Grace._ He had no idea why he thought so. 'Alright,' he said to the wolf, 'you lead, I'll follow.' The wolf bobbed it head down close to the ground and headed off along her tracks with an effortless jog. Logan followed the canine. The wolf took him around the remains of the main building and along its weather beaten walls. Most of the windows they passed were broken. Logan peeked through some of them. The rooms had been abandoned years ago. Some had their furniture still in place, some had been ransacked either by humans or wildlife and other forces of nature. Some where burnt, mere black holes with skeletons of office chairs and other furniture jutting through blown in snow and unrecognisable rubble. Logan wondered what had happened. The place had clearly burnt down, almost every room had some evidence of fire, but there where clear marks of explosions and small weapons fire too and some sections of the compound had been completely destroyed. It soon became even more evident that what ever intel Charles had had was no use to Logan. What ever had been here was now gone. He might have been able to find some clues if he had come there during the summer but now anything that might had survived the fire and the elements was buried in snow. Something strange had happened here years ago, that much was clear, but Logan couldn't see how that might help him at all.

 _What the fuck happened here? No way this was just a power plant._

The wolf had disappeared around a corned of a side building while Logan had been lost in his thoughts. He pushed his knit cab back and scratched his hairline before following the animal. The snow reached over his knees now and he was beginning to feel hot from ploughing through it. The cap made his scalp itch. He scraped his nails along his scalp and through his hair with zeal and grunted contently. He pulled the cap back down when he was done and followed in the wolf's footsteps. He enjoyed the silence of the place. There was something tranquil to ruins, a mixture of stillness and a sense of past; everything was said in past perfect. The serenity of ruins felt comfortable on his skin.

 _They are, I guess, a bit like me,_ he pondered, _Old, wrecked and forgotten. Blown to pieces but still a thing._

He had lost the wolf from his sight and he loped after it. He enjoyed its quiet presence, the camaraderie between animals. The wolf had got further ahead than he had thought and he called softly after it: 'Hey, darlin', wait up. Don't do this to uncle Logan, will ya.' He cleared a pile of concrete rubble by the corner of the building with one leap but lost his balance when his foot met a patch of ice hidden under the snow. His right leg skidded taking his weight with it and he fell awkwardly backwards. His reflexes took over and tried to save him from falling over head first on the rubble. He knew his rucksack would have buffered the blow even if the fall could have caused him serious damage; with the adamantium and the healing factor falling over was never anything to worry about.

He hit the ground left elbow first. Small burning stars flew across his visual field and sharp pain shot through his arm leaving his fingers numb. He drew a sharp breath, cursed wholeheartedly wishing there were more dirty words in his disposal.

'Are you alright? That looked like a nasty fall.'

Logan jumped to his feet, clenched his fists and let the claws out. He felt the steel cut through his right hand knuckles but nothing in his left hand. The arm was still out, muscles still limp and without feeling. No matter, an arm short he was still trouble enough.

'Watch it, bub,' he growled as he shook snow from his eyes, 'I might stumble on you next.'

The female voice laughed. 'Settle down, Logan, it's just me.'

His left arm was coming back online and he pushed his knitted cap away from his eyes with it. 'Fuckin' hell, Grace, it ain't smart sneaking up on me like that.' He retracted the claws and dusted the snow from his clothes.

'Well, that was kinda the point, friend,' Grace answered. Logan watched her holster the hand gun.

'Was that for me?' he said. He made sure there was no ice under his feet. The gun was back in the holster, he reminded himself.

'I wasn't sure if it was you. What exactly are you doing here anyway?'

The gun was in the holster on her thigh but her hand lingered just slightly behind her hipbone with her shoulder relaxed down and back. She was ready to pull and somehow Logan suspected she would be fast enough. 'This is like some goddam High Noon,' he said jokingly, 'I went to see you at your place but Pete told you were out here.' He wasn't worried about the gun. Maybe it would mend something between them if he let her take a shot or two at him.

'Pete told you where I was?'

'Yeah. He told me to bring you something but I dropped it there.' He pointed at the bundle half buried in the snow where it had dropped it as he fell. 'Mind if I pick it up for you? No foul play, I promise, love.'

'Sure.' Her shoulder relaxed and she walked closer as Logan leaned down to pick up the bag. He shook the snow from it and offered it to Grace. Logan backed up few steps after the bundle was in Grace's possession.

'It might be best if we headed back to your place,' Logan said as he watched Grace examine the contents. 'Your four-by-four might still make it through the snow.'

Grace closed the bag. 'It's too deep already. We might get through the first few miles but never all the way to the highway. I'd rather be stuck here than in a car.' She turned around with the bag in her left hand. Logan knew she was keeping her right one free on purpose.

Logan did not try follow her. He wasn't sure if he was invited to do so. Grace turned around and looked at him. 'Didn't you have something to talk about? You said you went to see me at the cottage.'

'No. I just –.' Logan looked back towards the main gate and the cars. She was right. There was no way he was getting away from here tonight. He turned his attention back at her. 'I just wanted to see how you're doing. If everythin' is alright – with you,' he confessed.

Grace smiled. 'Come on. I have something cooking. I'm sure there's enough for both of us.' She began walking along the already partly covered tracks. 'I found a decent old room to hole in for the night. It'll keep the wind and snow out for the night. We'll think what to do in the morning.'

Logan watched her walk ahead. Where had the wolf gone? There was no sight of it anywhere as far as he could tell. Had it really been guiding him to her? It was snowing heavily and Logan realised the falling snow would soon hid her from him and he started wading after her through the snow. The snow reached well over his knees now and his weight meant he sunk deeper into it than her. _I seriously need to get me a pair of snowshoes,_ he reproached himself, _I'm too heavy for this shit._

* * *

'Can I ask you something?' Logan said after they had finished the meal and there was hot coffee in his mug.

'Sure, ask away.' She had tea in hers, as always, dark and with a scent resembling sweetgrass. Logan thought he might ask if he could have a taste of it.

Logan added two logs to the fire. 'Back at the cabin when you had found me, how come you took me home?' He realised that made it sound like she had brought home a wounded fox. 'I mean you offered to kill me, then healed the wound, fed me, let me sleep in your bed and all that shit even after I had made sure I would – you know.'

She smiled at the fire. 'That must have been strange, I know.' She lifted her head and looked right at him across the flames. There was a strange look in her eyes, a warmth of remembrance that he thought was uncalled for. 'I recognised you the moment I saw you lying where I found you.' She realised how she had put it and she took a nervous gulp from her mug to hide it. 'I knew you had Soldier blood in you right away. It's pretty obvious because of your built, you know.'

'Yeah, I've noticed.' He let her have a moment of silence. He didn't want to push her. He reached for the enamel pot next to the fire and refilled his cup. He offered to pour more tea for her too. She held out her mug and smiled in return.

'You are one of my own, my kind, my responsibility. You fall under my jurisdiction under the Code.' Her voice was soft, caring even, and she took a sip of her cup. He watched her lips press against the rim of the enamel mug and followed how her upper lip moved as she tasted the liquid.

Logan's face hardened. 'Pete told me about that but I ain't yours. It wasn't you who manufactured me.' He pronounced it like a swearword. 'I have no fuckin' clue what this code you keep talkin' about is but it does not apply to me.' He sounded hard and he knew it. He had noticed the feelings her lips and hands and voice had stirred in him and he wanted to nip them in the bud. They were leading into thoughts he didn't want to think.

'But it does,' she said quietly. 'Every Soldier everywhere, on every planet, ship and station falls under the jurisdiction of my kind. Just because I didn't –' she paused to find a suitable expression 'The fact that you were not born into my barracks doesn't excuse me from my responsibility. You have the genes you have and that in itself is enough.'

 _Planets?_ _Who the fuck are you?_ Logan stared at her for a while from a cross the fire before he realised he hadn't said it out aloud. 'Planets and ships? Who the fuck are you?' His hands were trembling. They hadn't done that for a long while and he knew had to be close to the edge again. He had though he had finally conquered the rage, that he had in under control. Her scent reached his nose past the smell of wood burning, and he knew nothing had changed. Logan laid the mug down on a piece of fallen concrete and fought the urge to storm up and at her. He clenched his hands into fists and squeezed them so hard he could feel his nails dig into his flesh. The smell of his own blood helped a little. He could hear himself growl in a low pitch. 'Grace, I've been listenin' this shit long enough. Who the fuck are you?' He had meant it as a heads-up but he knew he sounded more threatening than what he wanted but it couldn't be helped.

Grace stayed absolutely still for a while, motionless, relaxed, at ease there on the other side of the fire. Then she suddenly put her enamel mug down and moved over to his side, right next to him, well with in the reach of his claws. She held out her hand, laid it down right next his knee as an offering of something Logan didn't quite understand.

Logan pulled away a bit. 'Watch it, Grace,' he warned pointing at her with his left index finger. 'Just answer the fuckin' question, Grace.' _I don't want to hurt you again._ He could feel the old rage beginning to boil in him. Where the hell did it come from? He didn't feel enraged. Frustrated, yes, but not enraged. The feeling did not come from his mind but from deep within his body as a familiar heat warmed his gut and he liked how it felt. He always liked how it felt. It felt nostalgic, comforting. _Christallmighty, please go away._

Grace pulled her hand away and stood up; she must have realised how close to loosing it he was. She added few more logs to the fire and returned to her spot opposite to his. She got lost to the flames for a quite a while but for some reason that did not fuel his anger. Her vacant stare helped him relax and the heat of the rage receded. The fire began to consume the newly added wood and Logan moved a bit further away from its heat. It was all nice though, the dry heat of an open fire nuzzling up his limbs and face, and he found himself exhaling contently as he leaned his back against his rucksack.

Grace smiled privately. 'You're right, mo charaid, you deserve answers. Especially you of the all people on this world.' She glanced at him, straight into his eyes through he flames, and looked up at what sky was visible through the cracked ceiling. It was still completely overcast and snow was still falling.

'You remember how I'm afraid of the stars, don't you? You asked me about that once, remember?'

'Yeah. Why?' Logan didn't look up. He kept his eyes on her.

'I was born there, between the stars, a long, long time a go,' she said and looked at him. The flames flickered in her eyes.

'In a galaxy far, far away,' Logan completed the sentiment and laughed. 'Or on a fuckin' mothership, right?' he continued, 'Journeyn' across the galaxy in a desperate search for a new homeworld. Darlin', I saw that movie too.'

She laughed with him. 'On a goddam mothership, that's true,' she said through the laughter before turning serious again. 'Oh, you should see it. There's nothing like it. But we are not looking for a new homeworld. We have plenty of those. All the more magnificent than the other. All out there,' she waved her hand across the sky, 'all out there. Among the stars.'

 _She's dead serious about this shit. She ain't lyin'._ 'What the hell are you doin' here then? Invading us? Checkin' out what kind of an enemy we would make if you came in with force?' Then a thought hit him: 'Are you fuckin' infiltratin' us? Is that why you look so like us? You fuck even smell like a human.' Logan didn't know at which point he had stood up. And he certainly had no idea at which point he had decided to believe her story.

Grace remained sitting. 'No, we are not an invading army or a group of spies. We look like you simply because we are you. We are just as human as you, I mean, the sapient population of this planet is. No, wait, that would include the dolphins and the whales too. Shite, you know what I mean, don't you, Logan?'

'Dolphins? What the fuck are you talkin' –.' _Oh, wait_. He wasn't a pure human. He was a crossbred bastard between a human and that shitty something that she was. 'I know what you mean,' he said and sat down again. 'So if you're tellin' the truth here then how come you have space travel and we, them, fuck, _Earthlings_ don't?' _This is ludicrous._

She thought about it before she answered: 'How much science fiction have you read?'

'What?'

'Scifi books. Have you read any?'

She seemed serious. 'I dunno. Several, some. Okay, a lot but what the hell about it?'

Grace laughed softly. 'Nothing wrong with that. I read quite a lot of that stuff and I actually have travelled between stars. Half of the books are not bad at all.' She scratched her brow. 'Right. Do you know what a seeder ship is?'

'Sounds familiar.' He tossed away what coffee there was in his mug and refilled it with her tea. It had a sweet taste to it, not sugary or anything like that, just sweet. The tea smelled like dried hay but he didn't taste it in the liquid as he drank. _Peculiar_ might be the suitable word here, he thought.

'There are different kinds but, listen, this will sound unreal, I know, but bear with me.' She finished her tea and put the mug away. 'Distances across the galaxy, between the stars and star systems are almost impossible to travel. It takes decades at the minimum, even with standard FTL, to cross them.'

'FTL?'

'Oh. Faster than light. There are engines that can reach faster than light speed, but there are limitations to their carrying capacity and it takes massive amounts of energy to run them. FTL engines are nifty but not the way to spread you species across the voids of the universe. You need huge, Behemoth-class freighters for that and they are slower, a way much slower. It takes about 1600 years for a freighter to travel here from the closest fully developed homeworld. So we use seeder ships.'

'So you are invaders.'

'Yes and no. We never seed planets that already support sapient cultures of sufficient level of complexity and technology but those are rare finds. Most of the suitable worlds we discover are open. We prefer planets with certain – physiological characters: oxygen, water, suitable sunlight and the overall composition of atmosphere but if we come across a planet that has potential but is not quite there yet, then we terraform it.' She put her mittens on. Logan hadn't even noticed she had been barehanded until then. 'It doesn't always work, like it didn't with your Mars, but given enough time and loving care it usually does.' She sounded regretful.

Logan felt like he had been lost in the translation. 'Mars?'

'Aye, you are living in a very, very special planetary system, you know. You have two rocky planets within ideal distance from a perfect star. We intended to terraform and seed both planets but there was some – problems with Mars and it failed. Pity, it would have been a beautiful place to call home. It still is a handsome world in its own right,' she said looking up as if seeing the planet hanging there above her head, 'It had rudimentary life still remaining when we first arrived, had had for aeons, and we tried to nurture it, to grow it into something more substantial – but it wasn't to be. It was too little too late.'

Logan shifted into more reclined position and extended his legs along the perimeter of the heat radiating from the fire. He wasn't sure at all what to think. It all sounded like so fantastical, unreal. Something a fiction writer might conjure up in his head.

'It does sound a bit daft, I know,' Grace said as if knowing what was going on in his mind.

'No shit.' Logan rubbed his face with his hands. 'I need a fuckin' drink.' He knew he should have brought something along.

'Sorry, can't help you there.'

'Nah, don't worry about it.' Logan leaned his head back on the rucksack. _To hell with it_. He might just as well let her tell all about it. 'Tell me about the seeder ships.' If nothing else it might turn out to be an entertaining story and he had all night to kill and no better ways to pass it.

She didn't continue right away. Logan waited patiently. He wasn't going anywhere tonight. All that heavy snowing meant that the road had to be impassable by now. Though it wouldn't be much better in the morning. Most likely they would either have to walk all the way to the highway or wait a day or two hoping someone would come and clear the road up to the dam.

'Seeder ships are huge, enormous. They can travel for centuries without much outside resources as they search for a planet that fits the bill. Then when they find one, one like Earth or Mars, they reanimate their crew from stasis thought they can function perfectly well without any supervision. A seeder ship is not just a spacefaring vessel but an intelligent entity, a sentient being of a kind.'

Logan laughed and Grace asked: 'What?'

'Nothin'. Go on.' _This is absurd._

'Right,' she said but Grace did not sound quite as confident as before and it didn't escape Logan's notice. 'When a seeder ship finds a suitable planet it and its crew begin to mould it, gently, towards the desired goal. We adjust the atmosphere –,' she halted in mid sentence and Logan caught a whiff of uncertainty and hesitation in his nose and in her voice. 'We – also adjust the life already existing on the planet. We add suitable traits and – retract undesired ones and – recreate species from our database.'

 _Fuckin' science fiction._ 'What did you recreate here?'

'Several things. Humans – for one.' Logan could feel her nervousness all the way across the fire. He sensed it as a constriction in his own chest and it made him feel ill at ease. What the hell was she talking about? It all sounded so unbelievable, so far out, that he didn't know what to say to it. So he said the only thing that came to his mind.

'So you've been here millions of years?'

'What? No,' Grace said sounding surprised, 'That would be absurd.'

Logan sat up and looked directly at her. Grace looked uncertain. 'You talk of fuckn' FTL's and seeder ships and _that_ sounded absurd to you?' He let himself fall back down. Logan sighed. 'But if you say that you recreated humans on this planet then you must have arrived several million years ago. There's the fuckin' fossil evidence of the whole fuckin' process.' He was starting to feel frustrated. 'How do you explain that?'

'The genus of humans already existed when our first seeder ship arrived here almost 200 000 years ago. They didn't have to do much terraforming, the planet was pretty much perfect. All they did was to introduce some modifications to the existing humanoid gene pool. Those changes created the modern _Homo sapiens_ , humans as you know today. It's not that complicated,' she explained apologetically, 'all it takes is the right alterations and time, quite a bit of time, I give you that –.'

'Explain me this,' Logan interrupted, 'if you arrived 200 000 years ago, like you said, how the hell can you look like us if there already was humans here?' Logan knew he this would have been the time to have a headache had such pain been possible for him.

'My original species doesn't look _exactly_ like this.' Logan glanced at Grace and she blushed. 'It's an adaptation to the situation but it's not too far off though. It's more a question of proportions and – such. It's not like we have four arms and six eyes. It's just – not _quite_ like this.'

'But you said we're the same.' Logan did not want to argue but did so anyway. It sounded and felt so fucking stupid, to be honest, but then again, there was a pile of stupid shit going on in the world right now. He, for one, was definitely not an average human being. Maybe he had come from the stars.

'For the most part of the gene pool we are. Think about dogs: no matter how different a poodle and a wolfhound look, they are still dogs. Every – breed of us on different planets is an adaptation to that planet's particular conditions, especially to atmospheric pressure and gravitation.'

'Right. We're back to dogs for reference.' Logan studied her features. She had a roundish face that narrowed down towards her chin. Her lips were full but not overly so; rather well proportioned considering the width of her mouth he thought. Her eyes were dark brown (that he remembered well from his dream memories), so dark that it was difficult to distinguish the pupils from the irises. She did not seemed to mind his scrutiny, only adjusted the scarf around her neck. Logan stood up and walked to her. 'You know this all sounds like bullshit to me, don't you, darlin'?' he said looking down at her. She shrug her shoulders and allowed him to sit down next to her. Logan stared into her eyes, inhaled her scent but did not find any traces of insincerity in her. Either she was telling the truth or what she honestly believed to be the truth. He raised his hand to touch her cheek, halted an inch before the contact to see if she would object before caressing her slightly blushed cheek with the back of his fingers. The blushing, he trusted, was form the cold and not from his proximity.

'Didn't you think it strange to find humanoids here, somethin' so close to yourselves?' he asked while his hand found her earlobe and his thumb traced its contours. She let his fingers find their way under her cap and he gently pulled few strands of her hair free.

'We did, even more so when we found out that we were so closely related. We already were practically the same species. All it took to close the gap were some minor adjustments.'

Logan lifted his left hand too and turned her head from side to side, slowly, with his both hands under her jawline. She definitely looked all human. 'What did you make of that?'

'It's still being debated. There are theories but that's all there is to it. As far as I know Earth is the only place where this has happened so far. But that's as far as I know. There might have been developments I'm not aware of.'

Logan turned her face towards his. 'You're pretty good lookin' girl to be 200 000 years old.' He couldn't help grinning devilishly. She smelled so good and a part of him wanted to rub himself against that scent. He knew he couldn't but he trusted he could curb what ever desires she might summon in him and he indulged in her scent and images it conjured. Something rumbled in his throat. He thought of the red head at Xavier's mansion and redirected some of his feelings there.

Grace laughed. 'I'm old but not that ancient. None of us where here at the beginning.'

'When did you arrive?' Logan had caught a glimpse of her teeth when she laughed. She had a perfect set of teeth, too perfect, but then, it occurred to him, she too must have been engineered or altered at least. Why should she have anything less than a perfect set of teeth?

'About 3000 years ago. We came to see that everything goes according to the plan. We are here to oversee the last stage.'

'The last guardians,' he joked. The image of the red head didn't help, it made it worst. He stroke her upper lip with his right thumb pressing the lip gently upwards. Her mouth was soft and moist and her teeth glimmered briefly in the firelight. 'I would love to have you under me,' he said to her in low voice.

Her jaw between his palms tightened and he realised what he had said. He withdrew his hands and stood up without a word. The mutilated room around them felt tighter than before and he stepped quickly across the pile of rubble separating her side from his. Logan sat back down on his spot that the fire had kept warm and assumed the supposedly relaxed pose from before. He wasn't fooling her, he had no illusions about that, it was more to reassure himself that nothing had just transpired, that everything was still okay.

 _You fuckin' bastard. You keep your fuckin' cock in you pants and your fuckin' hands to yourself._

'What about the Soldiers?' he asked trying to sound indifferent and failing miserably; there was a low tremor to his voice that he could not hide. 'It doesn't sound like you would need an army to accomplish what you came here for.'

Grace didn't reply for a quite some time. 'I have forgiven you, Logan.'

Logan closed his eyes. _Yeah, right. Forgiven me what?_ 'I asked you about the Soldiers. All this terraformin' and spaceship shit is fine but I asked you about the Soldiers.'

Another long silence. 'Alright then. The Soldiers.' There was strange tinge to her voice, a mixture of pride and far-reaching sadness. 'The universe is a big place and filled with life and not all of it is benign. There are things out there that want to tear this planet and others apart, to destroy and then colonise. There is a war for survival raging across the stars and we are all part of it. Even here, on Earth.' Logan opened his eyes and found her staring at him. Grace stood up. 'We created the Soldiers to be exactly that, a weapon against our enemies, one of our weapons, but we have used you elsewhere too,' she said while circling around the fire. 'We have used your kind, Logan,' she said as she kneeled down next to him, ' _I_ have used your kind to manipulate battles and wars among humans so that the result would benefit our cause and tilt the balance to our favour. I have ordered your kind to fight and slaughter and murder here and on other planets. I have led you into battles that have turned into massacres the moment we stepped in. I have ordered you to cause pain on others and my actions have resulted in the suffering of my Soldiers and therefore – you see, Logan, don't you – you are my responsibility, my burden. What ever you are, even you personally,' she hissed as she jabbed her finger agains his chest, 'I am partly to blame.' Grace drew a deep breath and sighed. 'None of you can die but you all can be killed. It's just very, very difficult to kill you in battle. You live for such a long time, mo charaid, and your lives are filled with death. I am also your deliverance, your saving grace and angel of death. Those of you who do not die in battle come to me when their time is full, when their hearts have emptied themselves, and I will let you go. With my sword.' Something close to a sob escaped her lips. 'What ever you do, your kind, I cannot be your judge or judgement. Not even to you, Wolverine. Not even to you.' He waited for a tear to fall down her face but nothing happened. 'The sword has to remain an act of compassion. Without it it's merely an execution.'

Pete had told him all this but hearing her say it made it sink in. 'How many have you killed?' The fire was ebbing and the coldness had crept closer.

'Five thousand three hundred and twenty-six. So far. There will be more.' She turned around and sat right next to him, side by side with her hip touching gently his thigh. Logan reached over and grabbed few logs that he placed carefully into the fire. He adjusted them so that the draft through the hole in the wall would feed the flames before sitting back next to her.

'You knew them all?'

'Almost everyone. There are some that belonged to other Marshals who had fallen in battle.'

Logan said nothing to that. He watched the smoke rise from the fire and followed it curl up through the hole in the ceiling. It had stopped snowing. Maybe tomorrow someone would come and plough the road and he could just hop into the car and follow his own path. _Fat chance_.

'Pete told me about you back at the mansion. About you and Soldiers and how we all belong to you, Grace.'

'He did?' She sounded surprised.

'Yeah, I know he shouldn't have.' He threw a sidelong glance at her but she was staring into the flames again. 'Don't be too hard on the boy. He did what he thought was best.' He saw Grace nod in agreement.

The silence between them had become comfortable, a new tranquility that allowed Logan to relax. The fire ate the wood, turned it slowly into embers and ash, and he kept feeding the flames. _You always knew you were a weapon, nothin' more._ Time flowed in silence and he had no idea how much of it passed by. Grace remained there, by his side, within his reach and lost in a private world closed to him.

Logan studied his hands. He opened and closed them several times, each time more slowly, more deliberately. He pushed the claws out, extended them into their full length despite the pain that always followed. 'I thought for along time that I needed to pass on the pain I had been put through,' he said eventually. It had to be well past midnight, more likely close to three o'clock he thought. He pulled the claws back in and watched the wounds heal. 'I thought I had the right to pass it along to anyone I chose to but I was wrong, you know, Grace.' He turned halfway towards her but she did not mirror his movement. It didn't matter. He turned back towards the flames. 'I deserved all I got, you know. I had it comin'.' He heard her draw a deep, dragging breath as she listened to his words. 'I owe you. For all the pain I put into you. It's not your fault, love, you know. It's just who I am.'

Grace turned her head away and for a moment it seemed that she would move away from him. 'I haven't forgiven you for your sake, Logan. It's the only way to maintain the balance,' she said instead. Logan thought he understood what she meant.

'I'll be off in the morning,' he said hoping that the knowledge of his departure would make her feel better. A quiver run through her and to his surprise he realised his words had startled her. 'Grace, love, you okay?' He put his hand on her shoulder, close to her neckline, in a kind, protective gesture that was unfamiliar to him. He almost pulled it back but he felt her relax under his touch and he left the hand there.

'Fine, I'm fine,' she said barely audibly and gathered her legs under her in preparation to stand up. He gripped her shoulder.

'Wait, I aint't done.' He hadn't meant so sound as harsh as he did. She looked at him with a frown. 'I don't want you to kill me anymore so don't feel obliged to do so. Doesn't it free you from that Code if I say that, right? I don't want you to kill me.'

Grace looked puzzled, even offended which he hadn't expected. 'Why do you say that?'

The question made him uncomfortable. 'That deliverance you offer, I don't deserve that from you, and you got enough pain of your own on your soul already. I'll find another way. It's not your concern anymore.' He couldn't undo what he had done but this was pain he could take away from her, pain from which he could spare her.

'But –.'

'But nothing. It ain't your choice.' _Let me do this one thing for you._ Logan stood up and pulled her up with him. He pulled her in close and closed her face between his hands. He rested his forehead against hers and held her like that for a moment. They were almost of the same hight. He liked that.

'I don't know if anythin' you said is true but –.' He feared she would pull away from him but to his relief she didn't even try. He feared he wouldn't have been able to let her go; he wanted to have her. 'Listen, love, I remember how you looked when they first gave you to me. You looked so strong, beautifully fierce, and they let me believe you would heal like me. I knew I could do what ever I wanted with you.' He lifted his head and looked at her. She had her eyes closed and he smelled fear. He pulled her even closer in and closed his arms around her. 'No,' he whispered, 'just listen to me.' He held her in silence before continuing. He still smelled fear. 'Nothin's gonna happen now, you have my word, love.' _Why do I keep callin' her that?_

His hug tightened. He remembered how she had looked when she had stood at the centre of the cell when they had opened the door for him for the first time. 'You seemed so fierce. You fought me with such force. I had to have you. I still want to have you.' _But not like that._ It had taken days to beat her into submission. He remembered those days particularly well considering how well he remembered in general. He remembered the feeling, the air about that cell well. There was nothing good about it, nothing but lust and hunger, more like a compulsion than anything else. _Now why the fuck would this be any different?_

'I don't remember much,' he heard her say with his head buried into the thickness of his duck down parka, 'but there's this one time.'

Logan swallowed. 'Yeah?'

'You had me pinned down, like you always did with your knee on my back. You weigh so much that is was hard to breath. You even broke my ribs a few times. I never knew if you did it on purpose.' He didn't remember either but he probably had done it on purpose. He opened his arms and let her go. She refused to look at his face.

'Why was that time different?'

'You used to grab me by my hair, every time.'

'I remember. I liked your hair.' He pulled her cap away and combed her hair with his fingers. 'It was so thick when they gave you to me.' He remembered tearing off tufts of her hair at first. He questioned briefly the logic of that, of destroying something he liked so much. She pulled her head away from his touch and he let the hair slip through his fingers. He suddenly remembered he had used to keep a lock of her hair in his pant pocket all the time back then. He let his hands fall down to his sides. 'Tell me, what was different that time?'

'What you just did, you did it then too. You stroke my hair, you didn't just grab it, and then you said something. I don't remember what.' She looked at where his belt buckle was under his coat.

'I don't remember ever speakin' to you.' _I have use for words. I can have what I want without them._

'You did say something that time, in a gentle voice. You sounded sad. I think that for a moment you saw what you were really doing to me.'

Logan remembered it well but could not bring himself to admit it aloud. 'Maybe I did but it changed nothin'.' There was a dream he almost remembered. Something about her and the cell and him. Not like the other dreams he had of her, something different but just beyond his reach.

'You did change after that.'

'But you said you didn't remember more.'

'I don't have clear memories about it, I was in a bad shape by then. I remember being happy about the light when you came in. It was all darkness otherwise. I remember the lamp hanging from the hook by the door.' She looked briefly at his face. 'You became – less severe after that.' She paused and looked straight at him with a confounded expression in her eyes. He knew she had remembered something new. 'One time you just sat there by the wall the whole time you were in there. You didn't touch me at all, you just sat and stared at me. I even fell to sleep at some point and when I woke up you were still there by the wall. That was really scary.' She squinted her eyes trying to remember more.

 _That was scary? Me sittin' and doin' nothin' was scary. What about all the other shit I did to you?_ Somehow he was sorry he didn't remember anything much about that time; it left him without means on knowing when his penance would be paid in full.

Grace shivered and Logan took a step back. 'It's getting cold here,' she said.

'Oh, I thought – right.' Logan rubbed his hands nervously against his thighs and looked around. 'We're runnin' low on the fire wood. That pile won't last the night.' Logan turned back towards Grace. 'I'll go and get us some more.'

'Don't bother,' Grace replied and stepped away from him. 'I have a heater with me. It'll be much more comfortable than the fire.' She opened one of her bags and pulled out something resembling a Coleman lantern. She placed it roughly at the centre of the room, maybe a yard away from the fire, and touched a button on its side. A gentle glow appeared. 'What do you think, plus ten degrees okay?'

'Ten degrees?' As far as Logan could tell the lantern didn't seem to shed any light at all. It merely glowed gently.

'Celsius. That's, what, 50 in Fahrenheit.'

'Shouldn't it be more like 500 degrees Celsius to keep us from fuckin' freezing to death?' Logan said kneeling down and studying the little apparatus closely. It did look a lot like a Coleman lantern but there was nothing behind the glass globe where the burner ought to have been. 'Ten degrees won't even heat the glass.'

Grace smiled. 'I meant the ambient temperature, not the temperature at the source. It doesn't work like that, you see. It heats up a specific amount of space around it directly and not by radiating heat like a fire does. Would ten degrees be enough for you? We can have it set to any temperature but I think ten would be fine for a winter's night.'

Logan picked up the lantern and turned it around in his hands. It was rather light though bottom heavy and he couldn't see anything else strange about it except for the missing burner. 'This is your technology, right?' he asked and put the lantern back down on the ground.

'Aye, it's ours. Don't ask me how it works. I only know it runs on battery power but I never bothered to learn the finer details. Ten degrees?'

'Fine,' Logan grunted. 'It'll be like the tropics.'

Grace laughed softly. She touched another button and the glow strengthened. The room begun to heat up quickly. The coldness behind Logan's back where the radiating warmth of the fire couldn't reach begun to dissolve and it was soon warm enough for him to open his parka.

'Nifty gismo.'

'Isn't it, though it doesn't have the aura of an open fire.'

'True.' Logan stood up. 'How about the fire then? We just let it burn out?'

Grace stood up too. 'We don't have to. We could keep it burning for the ambience if you want to.' She looked at him.

Logan avoided her eyes. 'Na, fuck that. I ain't goin' to get up every half an hour for that.' He cleared more space for his sleeping bag. The concrete floor under the rubble was still intact. All he had to do was kick aside most of the debris. Few larger segments needed some more effort but he soon had a comfortable space cleared out for himself. Grace had already cleared up a nook for her bedroll earlier before he had shown up, and by the time Logan was done with his bedding she was already snuggled down in her sleeping bag.

Logan eyed her thoughtfully before taking off his parka and sitting down on his bedding. He unlaced his boots and arranged them neatly side by side next to the foot of his sleeping bag. He took his jeans off, pulled the shirt off leaving only the T-shirt on, and folded all of them carefully over the boots.

'That,' Grace said suddenly as Logan was setting down inside his sleeping bag, 'is something so unlikely for a guy like you.'

'What?' He really was baffled. She sounded lighthearted; all the earlier darkness and gravity was gone.

'You keep your stuff so neatly together. Not something people would expect from someone with your appearances.'

Logan rested his head down and stared at the ceiling. 'No, I suppose not.' He did like the structure it created in his life; a little order that was all up to him, under his control and no-one else's. He turned to his side face towards her. 'Don't try to wake me up if I have a nightmare,' he said while trying to find a comfortable place for his shoulder, 'I don't want to end up stabbin' you.' Grace didn't reply and when he lifted his head to see if something was the matter, he saw she had already fallen to sleep.

Logan rested his head back down.

 _Funny thing._

 _There's always the scent of snow present when I sleep with her._

He realised how he had worded his thoughts and felt embarrassed by how much it disturbed him. He could see her face from behind the heater's glow.

 _Without the heater,_ he thought just before the sleep caught up with him, _it might have been best to sleep in the same bed._

 _It's fuckin' freezin' out there._

1


	3. Chapter 17 – Daybreak

**17\. Daybreak**

 _He didn't know when the dream had changed. There had been something before, a different dream before this, of something mundane, trivial, of ordinary life. He couldn't remember anymore. The dream he was dreaming now had taken over and it had consumed everything else. It had devoured everything just like it always did._

 _It was all familiar, even the fear was familiar, and there was a certain comfort to the familiarity of the dream. All these dreams were the same. Everything always happened in the same order, the sequence never changed. And while it did make the dreams more terrifying as he knew what to expect, it also was, in a weird, twisted way, a comfort too: there was no exceptions and no surprises but safety through consistency._

 _It always began here with him being tied down onto a steel grill in a large operation theatre with a set of blindingly bright lights hanging over him. Eight of them. He had seen the dream so many times that he had had time to count them. He knew every nook and cranny of all that was visible to him. He knew when a certain orderly would come in. He knew he was naked, he had looked down along his torso and legs once before his head had been bound down. He knew there was no insignia on the green garments of the staff and that one of them had three ballpoint pens in his pocket and another had a pea whistle hanging around his neck. There were x-ray images on light boxes mounted up on a wall. Possibly pictures of him, some somehow looked like him, but others were clearly of a person far lighter than him, thinner boned and all. By now, after about fifteen years of dreaming, he knew he would instantly recognise the place if he ever saw it in the real world._

 _By then the orderlies had him immobilised and there was nothing he could do but to submit. In the beginning he had tried to fight them, he still sometimes did, but it changed nothing: he would still end up being strapped down on the grid. The fighting only made it worse. He lost control then, got enraged, then desperate, and it would all end in sheer panic that left him screaming for mercy as they injected him with something his body could not fight off and left him paralysed. He hated that, the vulnerability that left him open for any pain and any humiliation the dream presented, and so he opted for cool stillness hoping that it would keep him from loosing it and safeguarding what little illusions of dignity he still harboured._

 _The staff changed and a new set in green garments and black rubber gas masks surrounded him. They rained pain on him. He couldn't see what they were doing to him because his head was bound down but he could feel the cuts, the incisions as they sliced into him and all the way down to the bones. He felt how his body tried to mend itself, how to it tried to close the wounds, but the surgical team kept the flesh open and did not let the sides of the incisions meet. He felt how the blood gushed out of him as they pushed something into him through the cuts and that was when he screamed, he always screamed then._

'Logan, stay awake.'

 _Something had changed. He had never understood anything of what the people in these dreams said. Something was different. Something had changed._

 _He felt a hand on his forehead and it made him twitch._

'Here, I'm over here, Logan. See me.'

 _He tried. There was someone standing next to his head. Someone new who had never been there before. Someone standing there almost beyond his field of vision._ 'Who?' _he managed._

 _The figure moved a bit and he was able to see it more clearly. It was just another surgeon in his green overalls. He spat and cursed at him._

'No, Logan, see me. Look at me, carefully, and see me.'

 _He tried again and suddenly there was space between him and the pain. The pain was still there, he still experienced it, but somehow it was not quite there in him, not within him anymore. He tried harder and figure became more focused._ 'Who are you? Who the fuck are you?' _Blood spilled from his mouth as he spoke and he had to cough. They were working through his lungs now._

'Look, look carefully.' _The figure reached for something and brought up his hand. He stared at it from the corner of his eye. It felt strange to have his hand free. He was never free in this dream. It almost didn't feel like his hand at all. It scared him. There was always fear in his dreams but the dreams had become so familiar that he was not afraid of the fear anymore but accepted it. There was nothing to be afraid of anymore, just fear to experience but nothing new to terrify him, nothing until now. He watched the figure bring his hand closer to its face and if he had been able he would have shrieked upon the touch, but there was too much blood in his mouth and he merely gurgled almost inhaling the warm liquid. He managed spat most of out._

'Logan, see me. Can you see me know?'

 _He had never been so afraid in his life, so terrified, scared stiff. The fear and blood made it hard to breathe. He did what the figure told him to do and let his hand rest on its face. The moment he felt the skin under his hand he recognised who it was._

'Grace?' _He could see her now, standing there in full surgical gear except for the gas mask. Had she always been there? She had to have. There was no other explanation for it. His dreams never changed. He knew every nook and granny, every nook and granny. She must had always been there. She kept on holding his hand._

How can my hand be free?

 _Somewhere in the distance the pain was turning into anger. There had always been some intrinsic anger in him, a hereditary trait of fury, and now that aptitude for ferocity was the nucleus around which the pain gathered and crystallised into rage. He had been fearsome before; after the operation he had become something even more impressive._

'I knew you were here when this happened,' _he said spurting out blood from his mouth as he spoke,_ 'You did this to me, you lying piece of shit.' _He was still afraid, so scared, and he desperately wanted to see what they were doing to him, but the rage and hatred were now outgrowing the fear. He focused all his attention on her, on her figure, on her flesh and how he would rip it into pieces as soon as he would get off of his shackles._ 'I should've torn you into pieces in that cell! I should've fuckin' killed you! It was all on you!' _The last sentence came out as a mangled scream that spewed warm blood from his lungs on her._

'No, Logan, this is your dream. I am in your dream but I wasn't there when this took place.'

 _Something burned into his left leg just below the knee. Pain shoot up his leg and up through his stomach but by the time it reached his consciousness it had turned into rancour._ 'You did this to me. You deserved all I did to you, bitch, and I'll come for seconds.' _He spat more blood at her. It stained her face and he growled at her. Then the pain shoot up his leg again and he screamed. He knew he had lost the fight; only pain would exist now that he had lost the fight. He managed to sob between the screams._

'Logan, stay awake. Stay with me. I need you to stay awake in this dream, don't fall deeper into it.'

 _She leaned in closer to him and he spat at her again. There had to be something in his lungs, something piercing them and keeping him bleeding internally._ 'I'll get you, you piece of shit. I'll be comin' for you. I'll make you wish I had killed you in that cell!' _The pain made him grind his teeth together. The pain was closer to him again, more real and more familiar, not quite inside him yet but it was creeping closer by the second. He tried to grab her with his hand that had somehow been freed but she saw it coming and stepped a side. Then the hand was again held immobile by shackles as if it had never been free at all. He howled at her, he felt how all the pain channeled through him and turned his scream of hatred into a screech._

 _Then she was there again, holding his head between her hands._ 'Logan, listen to me. Look at me. This is your dream I'm in and not the real thing. This is your memory of the bonding. Remember it and stay awake.'

 _He fought against the restrains with all his strength but they didn't give. Her hands remained on his cheeks. He yelled at her, shrieked so hard that he felt how it strained the muscles of his throat and neck to their limits. The struggling made his lungs bleed harder and for a moment he felt like drowning in his own blood. The surgical team didn't seem to notice. The blood filled his mouth and surged through his nose. He panicked, tried to force air into his lungs, but all he got was warm, thick blood. His body spasmed. The convulsion arched his spine and neck. Someone stuck a needle into the side of his throat, the spasm loosened, and he was able to breathe again._

 _Grace was still holding his head._ 'Remember the snow, Logan. Can you smell the snow, mo charaid?'

 _He inhaled between the bursts of insane, stellar pain. There was something strange in the air that flushed his lungs. It was too cold and sharp. He bit his teeth together to keep himself from screaming and stared into her eyes._ 'Shut the fuck up, bitch. Stay out of my head.'

'Smell the snow, Logan, and stay awake. Stay with me.'

 _He inhaled again. The air was so cold it bit into his lungs._ It wasn't like this. It was hot, fuckin' boilin'. _He inhaled again: the air smelled of snow. The distance between him and the pain returned and the rage begun to loose it momentum._ 'Grace?' _He was disoriented, his own body felt unfamiliar._ 'Snow. It smells like fuckin' snow in here.'

 _He saw Grace smile at him._ 'Stay calm. Hold on to that scent and stay awake in here.' _She stroked his cheek reassuringly and he knew he was still dreaming._

'Were you here?'

'No, not in here where this took place but I am inside your dream now. We are still in that ruined room at Alkali Lake. You are still dreaming. It's cold outside but the heater is keeping us warm.'

 _The pain intensified and left him gasping for air. He forced himself to breathe through his nose and the scent of snow pushed the pain into the background._ 'In my dream?' _He felt his body shudder as the pain from the surgery tore through it but it all took place somewhere in the distance, somewhere in the landscape of his dream. He kept his eyes locked at her. It helped to keep the pain at bay._

'You are having a nightmare and your yelled in your sleep. That woke me up. You told me not to wake you up if you had one, remember.' _Logan nodded. He did remember but it still didn't make sense. Grace stoke his forehead._ 'Remember that time when I kidnapped your body?' _He nodded again. He didn't dare to speak. He feared he might loose the scent of snow if he did that._ 'This is something similar. I delved into you again but this time were are dreaming the same dream.'

 _The thought alarmed him._ 'You shouldn't see this,' _he panted though his teeth,_ 'Get out. You shouldn't see this.'

'No, let me see this. Finish the dream.'

'No. Get out. The pain. I don't want – you to see this.' _He was ashamed by his weakness._

 _She climbed on top of him. It didn't seem to bother the surgical team. She seemed weightless as she stood there with legs astride his chest and looked around before looking down at him._ 'Who ever it was that ordered this to be done to you is in this room. He, she, they,' _she said thoughtfully,_ 'certainly would have wanted to witness the process.'

 _Logan drew in a deep breath. The scent of snow was like honey to his lungs now._ 'Grace, please, please go. I don't want you to see what they did to me.' _Another deep breath._ 'I don't want you to see me like this. Please. Go.'

 _Grace looked at him. She looked sad._ 'I already know what they did to you. I have seen it done before.' _She climbed down and disappeared from his field of vision. He heard her footsteps circle around his head and shoulders._ 'This is not the way to perform the bonding. You should be unconscious. This is crude,' _there was deep loathing in her voice,_ 'and cruel, unprofessional. We need to find out who did this to you.' _She reappeared on his right._ _An orderly walked past her showing no awareness of her presence. Her eyes followed him._ 'They were here that day and they are hear now. Logan,' _she whispered into his ear,_ 'dream the dream through. I'll be here too and I will find out who where here that day.' _She wiped blood and sweat from his face with her sleeve._ 'Be brave. And strong. Dream this dream through one more time.'

 _Logan nodded though he didn't really know what she meant by one more time. Then he remembered what would come next._ 'They're about to sink me into the tub, Grace.' _He intuitively reached for her arm,_ 'don't let them do it.' _The feeling of drowning was the worst. Pain he could take, pain was nothing. A piece of cake. A walk in the park._

'I'm sorry. Pain I can ease but – there's nothing I can do about what happens in the dream.' _She combed his hair with her fingers._ 'You have to dream this dream through. Remember the scent of snow from now on. Hang on to it. It will be there even under the water. And I'll be here with you all the way through.' _She kissed his forehead, then stepped back and disappeared from him again._

'No! Don't let them do this!' _He panicked as the steel grid begun to sink into the green liquid taking him under with it. He kept gripping her arm._ 'Please, Grace, stop it!' _Some green liquid splashed into his mouth and he coughed._ 'Please,' _and then he was under._

'This is the last time you will dream of this. I promise,' _he heard her say before the liquid got into his ears. He was still holding on to her arm when he realised the liquid now smelled of snow. Not of his blood and of the chemicals and of bile but of snow, white snow in the mountains far up north._

It's changed, _he realised as the liquid turned brown as his blood spilled into it,_ the dream has changed.

She changed it.

* * *

Logan woke up leisurely. He turned to his side and buried his head deeper into the bundle of clothing he had for a pillow. It was all good: comfortably warm inside his sleeping bag and nicely cool outside giving him a chance to appreciate the warmth. Had he been sleeping in a bed he would have turned onto his stomach, tucked both of his hands under his hipbones and his head partly under the pillow. He used to sleep like that, on his stomach and hands locked under him, a long time ago.

Logan opened his eyes. He did remembered sleeping like that, remembered the feeling of safety and the depth of relaxation. He never slept like that any more, never is a position that would in any way hinder his ability to defend himself. It had to be an old memory from his most distant past, from before he had become who he was now or who he had been when he had first met Grace. Maybe it was a memory from his childhood? He laid still and thought about his childhood. He remembered nothing about it, nothing at all, not a single toy, no feeling, no hurt nor hug. That shapeless void in his mind left him feeling adrift within history. He did have two clear harbours of memory where to dock himself: the memory of the adamantium bonding (as Grace called it) and the memory of meeting her for the very first time, but neither were harbours he much cared for, and anyhow, while the memories were clear, he had no sense when exactly, how far back in his past those events had taken place. The two memories were too loose to offer a secure anchorage.

 _Floating docks._

 _It would be nice to remember even just one birthday from when I was a kid._ Other people had those memories. It felt bitter to hear them talk about them.

 _Fuck that._ It was comfortable now, right now, at this moment. _Fuck the past. And the future._ _Carpe diem and all that shit._ He knew it to be true: there was no point in lingering in the past or in imagining the future. All that really mattered was the present and this present at hand was comfortable, pretty good even. _Let the past lie. Let it go._ He was fucking immortal (practically) anyhow. He had all the time in the world to do anything he wanted to do. Maybe someone would eventually invent time travel. Apparently somebody had invented faster than light travel and that was supposed to be impossible.

So why the hell was he still stuck here in the snow?

He turned onto his back and kept his eyes closed. It was warm inside the sleeping bag and the ground was not too hard or lumpy. He had spend good money on the mat and it was worth every fucking buck he had put into it. No way he was getting up before he absolutely had to. He opened his eyes and grinned as he stared at the concrete ceiling covered in crackled paint above him. _Some bacon would be nice. Maybe she'll fry some._ There was a dusty blue line painted on the ceiling some inches away from the wall and circling around the room. Logan followed it with his eyes. An unusual feature he thought. _Never seen one on the ceilin' before._

The panic fell upon him without warning. It hit him like a sledge hammer, made his soul disappear into an abyss that imploded within him. It didn't crawl up his legs or begin as a whisper of doubt in his mind. It hit him with full force without a second thought. His chest collapsed, and air was suddenly too thin to fill even his compressed lungs; his heart accelerated. It raced so fast it skipped a beat here and there. His muscles tensed and he felt light and transparent – disembodied, dissociated. Then the fear flooded in, an indescribable, abhorrent, sheer fear that fell over him and into him causing a second implosion inside him that took with it everything that was left of him. It all took only a second: one moment he was there feeling rather good and comfortable, the next he was crawling up to his knees with his hands shaking and a whimper escaping his lips. He managed to pause himself there, managed to contain his reactions, trembling on his knees and gasping for air. The last time he had felt like this had been years ago while driving alone somewhere up in the North. Back then he had bolted and run until his feet had given up. _Not. This. Time._ He wanted to scream, to let the panic flow through him freely, to let go and to surrender to the void it had created inside him. _No chance in hell. It ain't safe enough here. Anywhere. I need to get somewhere safe first._ He fought for breath, nearly hyperventilated as he scrambled to his feet. He almost fell over managing only barely to steady himself. He heard footsteps. Someone came up to him from behind, grabbed him by the shoulder and he spun around as he screamed and lashed out with his closed fist. The blow landed and he fell down following his falling assailant. Only then did the claws come out as he fell on top of his enemy with his hands wide apart and ready to surge down.

Logan came to his senses when his knees hit the ground. Somehow the impact that shook his bones reconnected his mind with the reality and for a moment he sat there bewildered with his hands still halfway into the blow intended to impale what ever it was that was threatening him. The panic subsided and he looked down. It was Grace lying under him. Blood stained her temple where his out-lashing fist had landed, and her arms were thrown aback and open.

' _There's so many kinds of fear and none of them is good.'_

 _Christallmightygod. Not her. Not this again._ He withdrew the claws and scrambled off of her. She was breathing, he could hear her draw air in and he could hear her heart beat unsteadily but defiantly. He wanted to grab her but he knew better. She had been lucky. _He_ had been lucky. Had his fist landed directly in a right angle on her temple he would be holding her lifeless corpse in his arms now. The panic had made him miss. (He had never thought he would one day be thankful for his panic attacks.) It had made him move too soon and his knuckles had only bumped against her head, and even more miraculously the claws had not been out. A mere scrape this time, but with his strength, with the adamantium and the extra boost from the panic, even that indirect bump had probably cracked her skull and caused damage to her cervical vertebrae. He wanted to pick her up but knew enough not to: she was still breathing but that might not last.

He _had_ killed Marie. Yeah, she was still alive but only because of her particular mutation. _He_ had killed her and _she_ had saved herself. Had she been anyone else, she would be dead now too.

 _Grace can heal herself too_ , Logan thought. _Unless I hit her hard enough and she really is unconscious._ He leaned in even closer and inhaled her scent. Her scent changed when she was healing herself. It added a touch of something resembling frankincense into her scent, something a bit more mellow and with a hint of citrus. He smelled nothing but her. He leaned in even more, as close to her skin below her ear he dared to. Nothing. He exhaled emptying his lungs as thoroughly as he could and inhaled again, carefully, deeply, savouring every molecule that passed through his nose. Still nothing. Logan closed his eyes and stayed there with his skin so close to hers that he could feel his stubble grace against her. He had hit her hard enough. She was unconscious, most likely in a coma.

 _She won't survive this one._

He jumped to his feet and let the frustration and rage and fear escape as he roared until there was no air left in him. He drew more air in and clamoured again. He cursed at the walls spitting out every foul word in his vocabulary. Then he fell down by her with his claws extended. He stared at the still glowing heater unable to look at her while what little life was left stubbornly lingered in her.

' _Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.'_

He forced himself to turn his eyes at her. She looked peaceful. People in coma almost always looked peaceful. He reached for her face with his hand, realised the claws were out and withdrew them as he withdrew his hand.

'I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I never meant it to be like this.'

He stayed there, on his knees, waiting for something that never happened. Grace kept breathing and her heart kept beating. Eventually he dared to reach for her hand. Her skin was burning. Fever was running through her. The force of his fist had injured her brain and her body was trying to survive without the help of the damaged areas. The body did what it could, what its limited knowledge allowed it to do, and so the fever had set in. He hovered his hand above her brow. She was burning up.

 _Look at her_ , he told himself, _This is what you do. Death itself indeed._

 _There has to be a way._

Logan cleared her hair away from her face. The hair was like silk, exactly like that day he had first met her. He braced his palm on the ground above her head and leaned in lips close to her ear taking care not to accidentally move her.

'Listen, love. I need you to fight for me. Give me a chance and I will get you out alive.' He let his forehead come in contact with her hair. 'Fight for me. Screw those Soldiers and Codes and fight for _me_. I owe you. You need to let me pay it back. You need to let me take it all back. I –.'

Logan stood up and looked around. She and him kept going about in these ridiculous circles of violence and near death. Over and over again. _Karma, bub, that's life for you._ He sighed and looked out through the hole in the ceiling. It was full day already. He had slept late. He didn't remember when he had last slept so late. It wasn't snowing anymore but he heard wind blowing outside. He walked away from the heater until he felt the cold bite into him as he stepped outside the device's range. Still way down below freezing. Logan returned to her. The fever was maintaining her body temperature but only for now and he wasn't even sure if it was a good thing: a lower body temperature would help to fight the damage spreading though her brain tissue. He wondered if he should turn the heater down and let her body get colder, but he decided against it. He didn't know enough about this stuff. A bit too cold and she would never wake up again.

 _They say freezin' to death ain't a bad way to go._

 _What the fuck does anyone know about dyin'?_

 _Except me._

He didn't have much time and he could not move her. There was no choice. The help would have to come here to her. Even if he could have moved her, all the roads between the ruined base and any civilisation had at least a feet of new snow on them. There was no way out. He had to get help in.

She probably had a radio.

He stared down at her on the floor.

 _This is the moment when everythin' changes._

 _If she has a radio and I call for help, they will come and get me too._ It would be a really simple scenario spreading about them. A woman beaten into coma alone with a man who – let's be honest – really didn't have that air of innocence about him. _I could wait until they are almost here before I split._ He knew that would never happen. To ensure his escape he would have to leave well in advance as the snow would slow him down and the tracks would lead to him. There was no way he would leave her alone for that long.

 _Not anymore._

 _If ever._

 _I could just let them take me in and make a brake for it later._ It wasn't like any local cell would held him. He could do that, let himself to be caught by the local Mounties. There was nothing to it. Simple. Foolproof. _Let them hold me until I hear she's safe. Maybe until I know she comes through._

 _It might be too late for me then._

He knew whoever it was that was hunting him would hear if he stayed too long in the system. It would take days before the doctors would know if she would make it or not. It could well be that by then he was no longer around to hear the news. They would get to him as soon as they possibly could and that'll be it. No second chances. They would have learnt from their mistakes.

 _Me for her life._

 _Fair trade._

He strode across their little camp and begun to tear through her gear. It took awhile and he paused every now and again to check on her. Her body temperature was dropping but slowly. He spread his sleeping bag on her to keep the warmth from escaping too quickly. He didn't find a radio but he found what he thought was a satellite phone. A number appeared on the screen when he turned it on. He didn't recognise it, the area code was not familiar. It made him realise he had no idea what to dial. Did the 911 work with satellite phones? He had no idea. He redialed the number on the screen.

 _Fair trade._

It took some time for the number to connect. Logan moved over to Grace while he waited. Her breathing was shallower but still steady.

'Grace?' A male voice that sounded familiar.

'No. It's Logan but I have her here.'

There was a pause at the other end. 'Have you hurt her?'

Logan bent down and touched her cheek with his fingertips.'Yes. I did –.'

The man cut in: 'You fucking bastard. Is she alive?'

'Barely. You need to get here ASAP if you want to keep her that way.'

The man cursed again. Logan could taste the want to kill him in the man's voice. 'We know where you are, Wolverine, you and her. We are coming in weapons hot.'

Logan couldn't resist the temptation. 'Aren't you afraid I might finish her off if you come in guns blazin', Nick?' he asked sardonically. He had finally recognised the voice.

'I'm sure you will. I'm pretty sure you already have. Otherwise you wouldn't have this phone.'

Logan sat down on the ground next to her. She looked so peaceful and her hair was so beautiful in the blueish glow of the heater.

 _A full circle. We have come a full circle, you and I, love._

'Logan, I know what you did to her in Afghanistan,' Nick said when he didn't reply. 'I saw what you did to her. When she forgot, I remembered.'

Logan smiled softly. 'I remember too. So that was in Afghanistan?' Nick didn't answer. 'Listen, you need to get your arse down here right now. She doesn't have long but she'll live if you get here fast enough. And Nick?'

'Yeah?'

'I'll be here too. You think you know what I did to her in Afghanistan? Think again.'

'You fucking piece of shit.' The coldness in the man's voice was something Logan knew intimately.

'You keep thinkin' about that on your way here. I might still surprise you.'

'I will have your head for this, you fucking piece of shit, Wolverine,' the man on the phone promised in a low voice.

Logan growled. 'No, you won't. But I'll have yours if you don't come in time.'

1


	4. Chapter 18 – High Noon

**High Noon**

Nick Fury knew better and did not bother with games of hide and seek. He ordered the helicopters to unload the teams as close as possible to the coordinates the phone had sent them. Wolverine already knew they were coming and even if he hadn't, his Soldier's senses would have tipped him off no matter how carefully they entered the field. The bastard had claimed she was still alive but mortally injured and just in case the man was telling the truth, Nick needed to make every second count. Hide and seek was out of the question. This was not the time for games.

' _You think you know what I did to her in Afghanistan? Think again._ '

Nick knew he didn't know everything about what had happened to Grace during those six months. The injuries and her state of mind had told them a lot but her healing factor, even as slow as it was, meant that some of the injuries she had suffered during her imprisonment had healed, and the logic of the healing factor meant that the healed ones had been the most pressing injuries. Nick knew he had had only a glimpse of what she had suffered in their hands. She had never told much about it to him directly but he had read the medical reports.

The choppers circled and dived. Individual trees became discernible from the dark mass of arctic forest. It was still cloudy and the light was dim.

'Two minutes to drop zone, sir.'

Nick pressed down the push-to-talk button of the chopper's intercom and acknowledged the pilot. 'Copy that. Two minutes. Red light.'

'Copy that. The light is red.'

Nick attached himself to the line and checked his gear. The helmet was secured and the gun was in the holster on his hip. He pulled it out and made sure it had adamantium bullets.

If she was dead he would take a life in return. Even an adamantium bullet would not kill that piece of shit but it would do serious damage if delivered mindfully, but Nick was not looking for a quick kill. Wolverine might think himself to be immortal but he wasn't and he certainly wasn't indestructible. There were ways to kill a Soldier. There were slow ways to kill a Soldier. All Nick wanted was for the bastard to pay.

They were barely above the trees now. The tree tops whooshed by below them, and the draft from the rotors blew up a white cloud of snow in their wake. Buildings with flat roofs appeared below, and the chopper swayed as is airspeed fell.

'The light is green, sir. Green light.'

'Copy that. The light is green.'

Other choppers unloaded their troops first, and Nick watched how men dressed in white slid down their ropes and disappeared into the building. He followed after and kept his ears open for gunfire and radio traffic. First voice came through when his feet touched the snow.

'Target in sight. No action.'

Nick unleashed the cord and flounced towards the opening in the battle scorched concrete wall. The radio cracked: 'Hold fire. Stand by.' He loped the last metres in the deep snow and entered the building. His troops had the room secured from all angles and their guns held their target in sight. Wolverine stood in the middle of the ruined room with legs astride eying warily the Soldiers surrounding him. Grace laid at his feet right behind him. A sleeping bag hid her body and Nick couldn't tell how badly she was injured or if she was still alive at all. Most likely not, he thought and turned his attention to the man towering over her: 'Step away from her.'

To Nick's surprise the man complied.

'Tell your medic to be careful with her neck. I probably damaged her spine,' Wolverine said as he moved away. 'I cracked her scull too.'

Nick kept his eyes on Wolverine and signalled for Oji to enter. The night-skinned man didn't hesitate but went directly to Grace and kneeled down. Wolverine's eyes followed the big medical expert but he didn't move a muscle. Oji threw the sleeping bag aside and a pulled a scanner from his kit. Nick waited. The gadget beeped quietly. They all waited.

Wolverine was the first to speak. 'Will she live?' Nick lifted an eye brow at the tone of the man's voice; Wolverine sounded concerned.

'Yes, she will live,' Oji affirmed and put the scanner away. Nick saw something flash in Wolverine's eyes but he couldn't tell what it had been.

'Secure him,' Nick commanded. Three of his Soldiers gave their weapons to their comrades and surrounded Wolverine who kept his eyes on Grace and Oji. He offered no resistance and seemed almost oblivious as the Soldiers twisted his arms behind his back and slipped the shackles on him. They signalled him to kneel and he lowered himself down. 'Watch him,' Nick barked.

'Yes, sir.'

Nick hunched down next to Oji. 'How bad it is?'

'Quite bad. He is right. One of her cervical vertebrae is shattered and her scull is fractured at the temple. There is some intracranial haemorrhage. The sooner we have her out of here the better, but we have to take care when we move her. I will call for a carrier.'

'Okay, you do what is necessary. Just keep her alive.' Nick straightened his back, turned around and kick the kneeling man on his temple. The man cursed, spat some blood but said nothing. The gash Nick's boot had cut healed. Two medics came in and Nick stepped aside to make room for them. The Soldiers tried to drag Wolverine further away but he put up a struggle and they had to press him down on the ground and hold him there. One more Soldier joined the three and together they managed to immobilise him.

'I don't give a fuck what you do to me later, Nick, but I will stay with her until you move her. I need to know she gets out alive.'

Nick squatted down next to Wolverine's head and pulled his head up by his hair. 'What went wrong, Wolverine? Did she put up a fight this time? You want to make sure she won't live to tell the tale?'

Wolverine spat out a some more blood before he growled at Nick. 'She always put up a fight. It's not what you think.'

'Oh, really?'

'No.'

One of Oji's medical instrument sounded an alarm and Nick turned his head to see what was wrong. Oji and the medics fussed about for a moment and the alarm died. Nick turned his attention back at Wolverine who was trying to wriggle his head free. Nick pressed the man's head down with both hands and put a knee on his temple to keep him there.

'Is she okay?' Wolverine demanded.

'What the fuck do you care if she lives or dies?'

Wolverine didn't answer and Nick felt him give in. 'Specialist, give him the shot. He is coming with us. I'll hold his head down for you.' A Soldier kneeled down next to Nick and pulled a hypodermic needle from his gear. The needle sunk into a vein on Wolverine's neck and Nick helped to keep him down while the sedative took hold of him. He put up a good fight, Nick gave him that much, but it was a short-lived one. Nick stood up again. 'Hook him up to the monitor and make sure he stays sedated during transport. He's not a pure blood Soldier so we can't be sure if he has inherited a full set of genetic markers for that sedative. Have some others ready and keep an eye on him. _All_ the time. We don't want him loose on the plane.'

'Yes, sir.'

Nick waited until the Soldiers had carried the slack Wolverine away and to the waiting carrier. Something was off here. Why had that murderous bastard called them? Nick had assumed they were heading for a trap of some kind but this was going so smoothly it unnerved him. This had not gone down the way he had planned. Oji called for him and he turned around. The master surgeon was standing now while the two medics finished up preparing Grace for transport. They had encrusted her neck with plaster foam that reached from her shoulders up to her temple. That would keep her head immobile during the flight back.

'So?' Nick asked.

Oji pulled the surgical gloves off. 'I gave her a dose of generalised nanites and they are already repairing the damage to her vertebra, but she will require some serious reconstructive work. If she survives the transport, she will live. The intracranial bleeding was not particularly extensive.'

'And the other injuries?'

Oji looked questioningly at Nick. 'How do you mean?'

Nick swallowed. 'What else did he do to her?'

'Nothing. It is just a single blow to the left temple. And a rather poorly aimed one for a Soldier, if you don't mind me saying. In fact, considering who hit her, it looks more accidental than deliberate.'

'Just one blow? And nothing else?'

'It does seem so.'

'Are you sure?'

'I cannot be absolutely sure until we get her undressed, but no, there are no signs of further injuries. I am fairly confident it is just that one blow.'

Nick looked at Grace. 'So – he didn't touch her. What the hell happened here?'

Oji put his hand on Nick's shoulder. 'You will have to ask him or wait until she is well enough to tell you. This was not another Afghanistan. They met here, set up the camp, ate and slept. The only vile thing was that one single blow – as far as we can tell. What ever transpired, Nick, it was not another Afghanistan,' Oji said and squeezed Nick's shoulder with his fingers. The closest medic signalled Oji and he nodded in return. 'We are ready to move her. You better get to your helicopter now too. We will meet at home.'

'Uh, yeah, right. See you there.'

* * *

'Sir?'

Nick turned away from the tank. 'Yes?'

'They are waiting in the corridor.'

Nick turned his back at the technician. 'Let them in.' He heard the door open but refused to pay any attention to the footsteps that entered the room. He kept his eyes on Grace who floated suspended in the tank, submerged in its slightly green liquid. She had a full mask breathing regulator secured on her face, and there were lines connecting her veins and arteries with the tank's systems. Her hair floated about her forming a dark, slowly undulating halo around her head. She was peaceful; no pain existed inside the tank.

Wolverine appeared into Nick's field of vision on his left. Nick disregarded the bastard. Let the dark-eyed man linger there and see what he had done to her. Wolverine took his time; Nick waited patiently. He felt the crossbred Soldier's presence on his skin as a gentle but resolved pressure radiating from a man who was ready to stand his ground. They both kept their eyes on Grace, but otherwise all Nick's senses were strained on Wolverine. He wanted to catch any signs that might betray what went on inside the crossbred bastard. The Soldiers in charge of Wolverine had told that he had remained calm and co-operative ever since arrival. It seemed strange to Nick considering what he had learnt about the man and in spite of all the atrocious history between them two, Nick had decided to let Wolverine see Grace while she was still healing naked in the tank. He had calculated that the sight of her might produce some kind of reaction, and Nick wanted to see if the bastard showed any remorse at the sight of her injury. Or if her undressed figure would arouse him. Anything. So far, nothing.

'What've you done to her?'

'The questions is,' Nick answered and turned to face the dark-eyed man, 'what have _you_ done to her?'

Wolverine didn't say anything for a while. He had his arms unshackled, and four Soldiers were standing by ready to control him. Wolverine kept his eyes on Grace floating in the silence of the tank. The whole recovery lab was dimly lit and quiet; the lights of the monitors and control panels glowed and blinked soundlessly. Nick had always had the feeling that in here time flowed more slowly.

'Everythin'.'

Wolverine's low voice brought Nick's thoughts back to the present. 'What's that?'

'Everythin',' Wolverine repeated, 'that's what I've done to her. Every foul thing.'

The answer confounded Nick and he had to think what to say next. 'Yes, you did,' he eventually confirmed. He wanted to keep his eyes on Wolverine to catch what ever reaction his words might stir up but he couldn't. The reports of Afghanistan came to his mind but he refused to think of them. He needed to stay calm and rational. This was not the time for emotive responses. This was one of the times he wished he had had the same training Grace had gone through. She had spent a century in the cloisters of Chahash'oh learning the arts of her Talent. They said one had to walk through the dark shadows of one's own soul there. Nick didn't really know what that meant but what ever it was, it had turned her insanely compassionate but not in the soft-hearted naive way, quite the contrary. Grace had returned from her century long refuge with an otherworldly tenaciousness Nick had found very hard to accept. He reached over to the closest monitor and checked its readings. Everything was fine with her. Everything was going to be just fine with her.

Wolverine threw a quick sidelong glance around the med lab. Nick thought he spotted the signs of revulsion. 'What is this place? What are you doin' to her?' Wolverine asked angrily.

Nick was convinced there was a threat hid somewhere in those questions. Nick fixed his eyes back on the tank. 'We are repairing the damage you caused to her.'

Wolverine shuffled his feet and glanced openly around the room. His eyes paused at the door and the two of the Soldiers moved to stand in between him and the reinforced door. Wolverine looked back at Grace. The left side of her throat and neck was mostly gone and her tracheal cartilage and the veins and arteries that run between her head and heart were visible. It looked like someone had removed her skin to have clear access. Wolverine moved closer in. 'What the fuck have you bastards done to her?'

Nick waved the Soldiers to stay put. 'We decided it was easier to remove the vertebra you broke than to repair it. The tank is now growing a new one.'

Wolverine circled the tank. Nick watched the man move in the glow of the tank. The dark-eyed man seemed calm and in control of himself but Nick did notice the signs of nervousness. The man thinking himself to be indestructible clearly found the recovery lab unnerving. Nick knew what had been done to Wolverine in a place resembling this one. Grace had told them in great detail. No wonder Wolverine was fucked up. 'She'll be okay. There are highly specialised nanites in the liquid that are healing her.'

'Nanites?'

'Nanomachines.'

Wolverine moved away from the tank and bumped into a tray of surgical instruments sending them clattering to the floor. The noise caused him to jump and the Soldiers brought up their weapons and aimed at him. Wolverine saw their movement and turned to take them on.

'Stand down!' Nick said firmly. Nobody responded. 'I said, stand down!' he repeated even more firmly, 'That includes you, Wolverine.'

Wolverine merely growled in return.

Nick held out a hand to keep the Soldiers at bay and took few tentative steps towards Wolverine. 'You don't want to start a fight in here, Wolverine,' Nick warned and pointed at the tank and Grace in it with his finger, 'The glass of the tank is strong but it's not unbreakable. If the tank shatters now, she dies. You said you wanted her to live. This is your one and only chance to show us you meant it.'

Wolverine frowned at him, looked at the tank and at her face before looking at Nick again. The moment passed and the half-breed Soldier drew in a dragged breath. Nick watched the mighty Wolverine falter on his feet. 'It's a fair trade, me for her life.' Nick barely heard the mumbled words.

Something was not right. Nick was beginning to think he had seriously miscalculated or misunderstood something pivotal. He signalled the Soldiers to lower their weapons. He needed to think. He looked at Grace and her hair flowing gently in the minimal currents of the tank. Oji had said that the blow had been carried out poorly, more accidental than properly executed had been his words. 'Logan,' he said and walked to the man, 'what happened?'

Logan looked up at him, then at her. 'We ate. She told me about you. You know, about the motherships and seeder ships. About you terraformin' planets and breeding soldiers. We talked about Afganistan.' Wolverine leaned his hands against the railing surrounding the tank and hunched his back hiding his face between his outstretched arms. 'We went to bed and I had a nightmare. I have these fucked up nightmares about the –,' he waved his hand about his torso, 'adamantium bondin'. I was havin' one of those.' He looked down at his fists, and Nick waited. Logan laughed sardonically. 'She delved into my dream.' A quick look at her. 'I didn't know she could do that. Did you?' he asked and looked at Nick as he straightened up. Nick nodded. 'Cause you did. She made me dream it through with her in there.' A hint of regret coloured his words. 'I didn't want her to see me like that but she made me dream it through. She said she would be able to find out who it was that did this to me.' Logan laughed again. 'I did sleep pretty well for the rest of the night. Woke up feelin' all sunshine and daffodils. – It went south fast after that.'

'What happened?'

Logan twisted his shoulders irritatedly. 'I had a panic attack,' he spat, 'She walked at me while I was havin' a fuckin' panic attack and I lashed out.' He looked down and scuffled his feet. 'I knew I couldn't get her out off there by myself and called you. Thought is was a fair trade,' he said and looked defiantly at Nick, 'me for her life.'

'You could have called us and scuttled.'

'No, I couldn't.'

Nick said nothing to that. Logan walked at the tank, held out his hand and touched the glass cautiously with his fingertips as if the thing might open up and swallow him whole. He held his hand there, run his eyes up and down along the tank. Nothing happened, and he pressed his whole palm against the warm glass. 'It's the same thing you use in bondin', right?' he asked sliding his hand upwards along the glass.

'Yep, same thing. Different gear though.'

'The one they used with me was horizontal, like a bathtub.'

'Older model then. Haven't used those since –.'

Logan looked at Nick over his shoulder and smiled mockingly. 'Don't tell me. Millennia ago.'

Nick hadn't expected Grace to tell Logan about his origin, though, as an afterthought, is wasn't completely surprising. 'Like I said, an older model. We upgraded to this style – aeons ago.' Logan glance at him again but said nothing. Nick cleared his throat. 'You might be telling the truth but we'll keep you in holding until she comes around and either verifies or refutes your story.'

'Like I said, a fair trade.' Logan took his hand away and looked up at her face. 'How long?'

'Not as long as you might think. We should be able to pull her out off the tank in a week or so. We'll question her a day or two after that. But you never know.'

'Fair enough.' Logan turned and headed for the door. He paused at the doorstep. 'Make sure she lives.'

* * *

There was a polite knock on the cell's door. They always knocked first before entering his cell, even if it was just to let him know they were about to open the hatch on the door to slip in his meal. Logan found it strange for them to be so polite. They had never instructed him to lean his hands against the back wall and stand there with legs wide apart so that it would be harder for him to start some trouble. They hadn't even told him to move away from the door when they knocked. He had done all that anyhow for the first few times just to show that he wasn't up to anything, but they had told him it wasn't necessary. Apparently he had looked as confounded as he had felt, and the Soldier on duty had explained that the knock was there just to let him know they were about to open the door. They didn't expect him to do anything. Logan had his right for privacy, the man had said. It was as if they never expected or even suspected he would try something.

Logan put the book down and sat up on the side of the bed. It wasn't too bad. The bed was big enough even for him and the mattress was sturdy enough to carry his weight. They had asked if he wanted to have a TV but he had got bored with it in two days and had asked for something to read. Few hours later a guard with thick Irish accent had brought him a stack of paperbacks. He was half way through the fourth one, _Ender's Game_ , now. Clever shit, that one. A bit like his life, he thought. The interruption annoyed him, he had wanted to read it on one go, but what can you do. Logan scratched his chin. Well, he would soon be back to lying on his back and reading. They never stayed for long.

The door opened and Nick came in carrying a chair that he placed by the wall near the door.

'We pulled her out of the tank yesterday morning.'

The news electrified something in Logan's guts. 'Yeah? How is she?'

Nick smiled (slightly scornfully, Logan thought). 'Better than most but she has always been quick to recover from the aftereffects of the tank. She's still a bit unsteady on her feet but she'll be as good as new in a few days.'

Logan reached for the book and put it way on the side table. 'What did she tell you?'

Nick answered with a dark frown. 'She'll be coming in to see you. You stay on the bed and she'll sit in the chair, is that clear?'

'Sure, me on the bed, her in the chair.'

'We'll be watching.'

Logan nodded and Nick left the room. The door stayed ajar and Logan stared at the handle. Time passed. He felt nervous; the almost closed door unnerved him. Then he heard foot steps approaching in the corridor, three or four persons at slow pace. The door opened again as a Soldier stepped in and took up a position between him and the doorway. Grace followed after him and sat down in the chair. She was more than pale, white as bone china, and her movements swayed slightly. The Soldier left after she had settled in and closed the door.

'Hi.' She sounded weak, even frail.

Logan almost stood up. 'What did you tell them?'

She chuckled. 'You almost rip my head off and that's the first thing you want to know.'

'He said you'd be fine,' Logan argued as he moved closer to the end of the bed, closer to her. He stayed there for a moment but then slowly stood up trying to be as unthreatening in his manner as he possibly could. The door swung open but Grace held up her hand at Nick who stopped at the entrance.

'Thanks, I'll be just fine with him off the bed.'

'You're sure?'

'I'm sure, Nick. Appreciate the concern.' Nick glanced at Logan and clenched his jaw but closed the door again. Logan took a step closer and dropped down on his haunches. Grace met his gaze. 'He doesn't like you.'

Logan snorted. 'I wouldn't have guessed.'

Grace smiled softly. 'We, me and Nick, we've been together in this since the very beginning and this isn't our first planet either. He has watched shit happen to me more times than anyone wants to count. You were just the last straw,' she explained. 'I think he will want out soon,' she added as she glanced at the door.

Grace sighed and looked back at Logan. 'I told them it was an accident. My mistake to be honest. Stupid of me to approach you then.'

Logan bit back his relief. 'It wasn't meant for you, love, but it was me. That's what I do, you know.' Suddenly he just had to grin.

'What?'

'You know, that there sounded just like some fuckin' domestic abuse case.' He chuckled but then quickly swallowed his amusement. 'I suppose this is something like that. In a way, you know. There's somethin' weird goin' on between us, somethin' fucked up. If you were takin' the same shit from somebody else, I would tell you to get the hell out and fast.' _Like I did tell you._ He looked down at his hands and rubbed his palms together before looking back at her. 'It wasn't your mistake, hon, not your fault. It's all on me.'

Grace said nothing but reached for his shoulder with her hand. Logan put his hand on hers. He didn't know what to make of the gesture. He was relieved, that he knew. Grace was alive and apparently well even if still in recovery, but her touch burned on his shoulder and he pulled his hand away. Logan stood up and her hand slid down along his arm as he moved. He looked down at her and studied her features. She was pale but her heart sounded strong and steady, and her scent was balanced. 'How's your neck? They told me they fitted you with a new vertebrae.'

Again Grace chuckled. 'As good as new. Which it is. You can see for yourself,' she said and tilted her head to her right. She tried to pull her hair aside but her hand stopped short of her shoulder and she winched. Logan took a step closer without thinking. 'Aw, the shoulder is still not cooperating fully. You have to pull the hair aside yourself,' she encouraged when he didn't move, 'You won't see even a scar there.'

Logan hesitated but then complied; he really shouldn't be doing things like this. He combed her hair back with his fingers. The skin on her neck was perfect, so pale that it was close to colourless, but it was unblemished. He let the hair fall back down but couldn't keep himself form letting his fingers brush against her skin. She felt slightly cold but it was so good the be able to feel her under his touch.

 _Back off, asshole._

'Not a scar, like you said,' he confirmed. 'But you were lucky. It was a shitty blow. Especially for me. If I hadn't been – panicin' –' It was painful to admit that his form as a warrior had flaws and he had to recompose himself. 'With a bit less luck the blow would've landed right on your temple and with my claws out. We wouldn't be havin' this conversation now.'

Grace looked away. 'I know.'

Logan crouched down in front of her and took hold of her hands. 'Listen, Grace.' He fell into silence. He didn't know what he was about to say or what he wanted to say. Was there something that could be said?

 _Chickenshit._

 _Time to face the music for real for once in your fucked up life._

'Just listen to me. I ain't gonna talk about this again so listen to me now, love.' He sighed and sat down on the floor in front of her chair. He let go of her hands and stared at her knees instead. This was it, he knew that.

'You told me I was bred.' Grace nodded. Logan knew there was no nice way around it. All he could do was to cough up what he knew. 'They tried to breed us in Afghanistan. They told me we had similar abilities, that you could heal like me, and they wanted see what kind of offspring the two of us would make. I remembered that a few months ago but I can't remember why I went along with that. I knew it was fucked up but I didn't say no.' _Keep talkin', wimp. If you shut up now you'll never say it._ 'It wasn't just that, they wanted to break your will too. _I_ wanted to break your will. You had such guts when I first saw you that I wanted to see if I could make you yield. I wanted to beat the fight out of you.'

'You did make me yield.' She sounded angry. It eased his pain to hear her hate him.

'Yeah, I did,' he admitted. 'I made you yield. I remember how it felt.'

'How did it feel then?'

'Sweet. Powerful. In control.' He looked at his hands in shame. 'It felt fuckin' amazin' to have you under my will. Especially you, for some reason. I don't know.'

'Good for you.'

Logan could smell the hatred in her. It was a familiar smell, a stench he had smelled on himself so many times. 'I dream about that too. Like I dream about the adamantium.'

'Like you dream about the adamantium,' she repeated.

'That's how I remembered it. I remember what I did to you and why.'

'You _dream_ about it?' Her voice was a whisper of condensed loathing. Its stench fell like spit over him and it felt good. It appeased his guild, mollified the pain of self-loathing in him. _This is what I deserve, my fair share._ He let the moment linger on bathing in its stench.

'You fucking _dream_ about it?' Her voice trembled as she repeated it. 'You _dream_ about beating and fucking the shit out of me. You dream of _that?_ ' she hissed.

He wanted to say no. 'Yeah. I have dreams about it.'

Logan stood up and walked away to his bed and sat down. He stared at the floor between his feet for a long while. They were getting nowhere, he thought. They had been locked, mired down in this shit for years and years now. He wanted to move on, he realised. He wanted to move on to something new, to something less stained and less destructive. There had never been a way back for him. The only way to go had always been to go straight through it. Even if it meant he had to hurt her one more time and destroy what ever it was he had found between them. He needed to be honest with himself. ' _To thine own self be true.'_ He remembered seeing that written to deny what he was had not paid off. He lifted his chin up and bit his teeth together while squinting his eyes.

'It's not like I want to do that to you right now, you know. I don't fantasise about – rapin' you. Or anyone else. It's nothin',' he glanced quickly at her before looking away again, 'like that.'

She had daggers in her eyes. 'Then what is it?'

He thought about it. He did want her. He did want to have her but it wasn't the kind of wanting he experienced in his dreams. He decided not to confess to any of that. _It's time to let her go._ 'I want Jean to like me. You know, Jean Grey, that doctor with red hair in Xavier's team? I want someone like her to want me. Someone – uninvolved to prove I'm not beyond redemption. I want her to choose me over Scott.'

'You want that _and_ you dream about – reruns of Afghanistan?' She sounded calmer than before, slightly more puzzled than enraged.

'No!' he snapped in frustration. 'No. I don't want to repeat that. But I fear – I think I might end up doin' it to someone anyhow.' He let out a low growl. 'Look, d'you remember what I told you about those blackouts years ago?' He saw her nod in the corner of his eye. 'Somethin' like it happens to me when I touch you. Sometimes. Not always but sometimes. I touch you and –.' He run the fingers of both his hands through his hair. 'Fuck. Sometimes when I touch you and think how good it feels to do that, I have these vivid, really, really realistic flashbacks about the cell in Afghanistan and you – in it, and it feels as we're back there; like it's all happenin' right now or if we're both still in there. Like we never left.' He stood up and paced back and forth between the door and his bed a few times before stopping in front of her. She had to look up at him. 'The flashback changes everythin'. In stead of – When it happens all I want is to smack you to the ground, tear you pants down and fuck you which ever way I happen to like. That's what I want then,' he said leaning in to stare at her, 'That's what I am.'

Grace met his gaze with a thoughtful frown. 'You should've told me before.'

Logan stood up and laughed. 'I tried tellin' you that several times, love, you just didn't listen.' He went back to the bed and sat down. 'You should've killed me the first time I asked.'

'Could be,' she admitted, 'but don't talk of death so easily. Don't slip into misery so easily. We both have made it through worst.' It sounded like she was repeating something someone had told her.

'Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?'

He heard her get up and then stumble on her unsteady feet and he sprang up to grab her arm. She let him help her to the bed. 'Sit down. It's your turn to listen,' she demanded.

Logan sat down next to her but made sure there was ample room between them.

'You should've told me about the flashbacks right away.' She fell silent and Logan waited. It was like that time he had found her sitting by the pool back in Calgary. He had cared for her then. His rage had ebbed and he had made sure she had been safe. He thought about sitting at her bedside and listening her breathe in the dark. Suddenly he felt at ease. He remembered tucking her in bed, making sure the pillow was comfortably under her head, folding the edges of the blankets under her legs. He remembered feeding her water one spoonful at a time and he remembered how she had begun to shiver from hypothermia during the first night and he had stripped naked and crawled under the blankets with her. He had felt himself responsible and not only because it all had been his doing but simply because he had been the one person available.

He wondered briefly if his need to care for her was part of his genetic makeup, a response coded into his Soldier DNA.

He smiled. _What the fuck would that change?_

Grace adjusted her posture. 'What you are experiencing, what those flashbacks are, is extreme symptoms of post traumatic stress. It's not what or who you are, it's a set of experiences that your mind or more precisely your brain is playing over and over again. It's a bit like a stuck LP spinning around or a CD player stuck on repeat.' Grace moved again. She lifted her feet on the bed, pushed herself back across it and leaned against the wall. She closed her eyes for a bit. 'I know the flashbacks feel real to you, Logan, and they are, in a way, real to you. After all, they are painfully realistic, exact reruns of traumatic experiences you have had, but it doesn't –'

'What the –,' he interrupted. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. 'There's nothin' traumatic to me about the experiences of rapin' you!' Logan saw his outburst make her flinch. He backed a little further away from her. 'Hey, it's okay. See, I ain't gonna touch you.'

She flashed a quiet smile at him. 'I know. But why do you think you are having flashbacks? Because you crave to do so again? Because _that_ is your true nature?'

'Well – yeah.'

'Haven't we been through this already?' She sounded and looked tired; dark shadows had appeared under her eyes. 'Ach, well. One more time then. No creature is born evil or good. It can go both ways and it often isn't up to that poor bastard how it turns out. You do know that what you did was horribly wrong?'

'Yeah.'

'And you now wish you hadn't done it?'

He had to think about it. 'I'm not sure. I wish I could say yes. I hope I hadn't done that,' he offered, 'that it was just some fucked up dream. I did want to do it – back then. They asked and I agreed. I was ready as a fuckin' boy scout.'

She laughed kindly. 'You think there's a difference between you wishing and hoping?'

He thought about that too. He grinned slyly and glanced at her. 'I suppose not.'

'So you regret it?'

Did he? He rubbed his face with the palms of his hands to win some time. 'Yeah,' he confessed eventually.

Grace said nothing to that. Logan dug his fingers into the edge of the mattress and leaned forward. _This is it. Just spat it out_. _It's about fuckin' time you do so._

'I'm sorry I hurt you,' he conceded, 'I'm sorry I did those things to you. I wish I could undo them. All of them.' His head sink in between his shoulders. 'I am sorry.'

There was a long silence before she spoke. 'I know. Thank you.'

He kept his head down. 'Right. But it's not enough?'

The bed creaked as she moved over next to him. 'It's a good start.'

Logan glanced at her. She seemed to feel comfortable enough to sit next to him and her scent didn't give him reason to think otherwise. He reached for her knee without looking. Grace did not move away on contact and it soothed him. 'You need to rest now,' he said to her and patted the knee.

He felt a hand on his. 'Aye, I do. Will you help me up?'

Logan stood up and helped Grace to her feet and to the door opening it for her. He was surprised it had not been locked but then again an unlocked door was a faster way in if things had gone awry for her. Logan stepped aside to let her pass.

Grace held on to her arm. 'No, you help me to the recovery lab, would you?'

'I think I'm supposed to stay in here.'

'Not anymore.'

Logan let out a short guffaw. 'You're somethin' else. You don't reckon Nick might think otherwise?'

'Actually no. He will talk to you tomorrow. We have plans for you.'

Logan didn't particularly like the sound of that but the game had changed. He had caused the game to change. 'I'll hear him out but don't count on me.'

'That's all I'm asking,' she said as she stepped into the corridor. Logan followed on her side as he offered her his arm in support. There was no-one in the narrow corridor. He looked over his shoulder towards the other end but the whole of the long space was deserted.

'They really left you alone with me in there? That was unbelievably stupid.'

'You think so? Why?'

He could tell she was messing with him. 'Grace, get real. You're bordein' stupid. You can't count on me.'

Grace stopped and looked at him in the eye. 'Logan, mo charaid, listen. I didn't trust you when I walked into that room. I took a leap of fate. I wanted to be right about you and the best way to find out was to see you eye to eye.'

'You're out of your mind. You can't keep pullin' stunts like that, for fuck's sake.'

Grace laughed briefly but then her expression got somber. 'You are my Soldier and I am your Marshal. Like I've said, you are my responsibility and the fact that you were not born and bred with us does not relieve me from that responsibility. I know every one of you would do anything I ask and I have to pay back that loyalty. Without an exception.'

'You are not responsible for me,' he said feeling the anger kindling somewhere.

'Not just for you, more importantly to you.' She shifted her weight and they continued down the corridor passing the doors of other small rooms along the way. 'You really should've told me about the flashbacks. It's nothing unusual among Soldiers. Post traumatic stress is common among you and we have ways to deal with it.'

Logan barked sourly. 'Jeez, it didn't spring to my mind to tell you about daydreaming – about Afghanistan.' He fell into silence. 'Grace,' he said and stopped her. They were close to the end of the corridor, just behind the double doors that lead to a larger hallway. Grace looked at him patiently. She was so pale, he though, pale and frail and yet he recognised in her the same defiance he had fell for in Afghanistan. He run his fingers through her hair and down her shoulder. 'I am sorry.'

She took his hand and pressed it against her cheek. They stood there, Logan looking at her and Grace with closed eyes; Logan heard other people move past in the hallway behind the doors, heard their footsteps, heard their voices, some speaking in languages he didn't recognise. After a while he carefully pulled his hand away, stepped closer and closed his arms around her. She didn't object. Logan rested his head against hers; her hair smelled of her and of something else which he reckoned had to be the tank.

'I need to tell you one more thing about Afghanistan,' he said into her hair. He felt her nod her head. 'I remember one time came in to see you. We – I dunno who the hell that we is but anyhow – we had just come back from some mission and I was fuckin' high on combat, on blood and on adrenalin and I was itchin' to get my hands on you.' He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back; he knew there was a nasty tone to what he was about to say next. 'I needed you so bad. I needed to vent that excitement on something. On you.' He paused to brush her hair and back with his hand. 'I remember I walked in feelin' so fuckin' stoned. My belt was unbuckled before the door was unlocked.' He felt her move under his embrace and he stopped talking to hug her harder. 'I'm sorry. Let me tell you this one last thing. The last thing, I promise, and I'll keep my mouth shut about it.' She settled down and he went on.

'They pushed the door open for me and I leaped in and they shut the door on us and I thought – I thought how absolutely awesome day it was about to be for me. I walked over to you. You were lyin' in one corner, covered in some nasty smellin' rags. I shoved my boot at you hip to wake you up – twice and hard too since you didn't react on the first time. Then I realised you were out for the count and that pissed me off. I grabbed your leg and dragged you into the middle of the floor thinkin' how the fuck you don't heal like they promised you would. How in hell was I gonna fuck –.' He paused in mid sentence but decided to keep on talking. _In for a penny, in for a pound._ 'How in hell I was goin' to fuck an unconscious bitch. Where's the fun in that? But I dragged you out anyway. When I let go of your ankle and watched you lay there, twisted and mangled and unconscious, I remembered how you had looked the first time I had seen you and suddenly I saw you as what you really were: a beaten, violated, slowly dyin' person lyin' in shit.' He let go of her, took her head in between his hands and leaned his forehead against hers but then let her go. 'I saw you and I knew I had put you there. I didn't feel like doin' it to you anymore, not that time anyway. I just sat there next to the wall for hours until you came around. You opened your eyes and looked straight at me. Without even a blink. So I got up and left.'

'It was scary. Like I said.'

Logan felt her words on his face. He lifted his head up and looked at her. 'Yeah, you did tell me about that. But really, that was scary?' Her reaction made him chuckle. 'You're one brick short of a load, you know. _That_ scared you?'

A downcast smile fell across her face. 'Aye, you changed. It made you unpredictable. By then I had figured out how to behave when you came in, how to minimise the damage, but when I woke up to find you just sitting there I woke up into a new nightmare, and I had no idea how that one worked.'

Logan knew he should let go of her. This was sick, abhorrent, perverted. 'You know this is – wrong,' he said and stepped away from her. He scratched the back of his head and looked at the door. 'We should get you back to the med lab. You need to lie down. I don't like the way your breathin' sounds.' He looked at her and noticed her legs trembled. 'Shit. We need to get you there right now.'

Grace blinked laboriously. Her neck twitched and she swayed. Logan grabbed her by her arms and held her up. He looked around for something to sit her down but there was nothing in the corridor. _Fuck._ He wrapped his hands around her again.

'Can you walk if I hold you up?' He wrapped her arm around his shoulders and squeezed her hip against his thigh with his arm around her waist.

'Aye, but slowly.'

'I could easily carry you there.'

'Nah, I want to walk,' she said stubbornly.

Logan sighed. 'Okay, but I don't think it's wise.' He begun to guide her towards the doors.

'Wait, I need to ask you something.'

Logan made her lean against him. 'Shoot.' He though she was lighter than before the tank.

'After that time you changed. You became gentler. Or more careful at least.' Her breathing was way too raspy to his liking. He wanted to move along.

'I suppose I did. Makes no difference, I still kept at it.'

'That's what I wanted to ask you about. Why did you? After that you often sat there with me. And there were times when you left without touching me. Why couldn't you stop?' The last question sounded more like a plead and he didn't like hearing her sound like that.

 _Why couldn't I?_ There had been times he had wanted to stop. 'You were in my possession. I dunno. I suppose I just didn't know how to stop. It's all in my nature and all that shit.' Her legs buckled and he hoisted her higher. 'Love, we have to get you to the med lab. You're not doin' great here.'

'Logan, Charles was right, you have a heart of gold,' she said and passed out. Logan almost dropped her as her body went limp.

'Great, fuckin' great.'

The doors opened and Pete walked in.

'Grab her legs and take us to the infirmary. She ain't doin' great.'

1


	5. Chapter 19 – Reset and Synchronise

**19\. Reset and Synchronise**

Logan was ready to leave. He had decided to return to Charles' mansion and play the game in which he was supposed to team up with the X-men. He wasn't quite sure about becoming a member of anything. Teams where build on trust and his stocks were running low in that respect. He might had been a team player once but that had been along time ago, too long ago, and what he remembered about the results was not encouraging. He had spend the last few days thinking things through and contemplating his options while he waited for Grace to recover. Oji, the African sounding physician, had told her to stay in bed. It had turned out they had pulled her out too soon with some of the nanites still active. Somebody had clearly fucked up but Logan had kept his opinions to himself. _All well that ends well._ She was on the mend and that was good enough.

Logan had met with Nick the day after Grace had come to see Logan in his holding cell. The meeting had been an eyeopener, a revelation of a sort. For most part Nick had been more than thorough with his stories and explanations. It had been Logan's brother who he had fought on top of Lady Liberty that night, fought and killed. His full brother from the same human mother. They had the body, Nick had told Logan, and Logan had been allowed to see the carcass. It hadn't looked familiar, not really. Nick had told that for some weird fucked up reason his brother's mutation had progressed, and that they were looking into it, but the point was he wouldn't have looked like that when Logan had known him. Logan had got the impression that Nick had met his brother before, but he chose not to ask about it. He didn't care. That past was not something he much cared for. He didn't want to know. He had enough shit between him and Grace to last a life time – even a particularly long one – and he knew when to cut his losses. He had told Nick he didn't care what they did with the carcass. _Fuck that, water under the bridge and all that shit._

Logan hadn't been nor was sorry for killing his own brother. He had done what he had done to keep Marie safe, and by what little his dreams had shown him about his brother, he knew the world was better off with one less fucker like that. Seriously. (Like it would be without him too.) Of course there were questions his brother could have answered. That he did regret, the missed opportunity, but he suspected getting answers from his brother would have been – troublesome, if even possible at all. All the same, his brother's existence had proved, as Nick had pointed out, that there were others like him in the world, others who probably could provide some answers to the questions both Logan and Nick wanted answered, and the practical way of finding those answers was to play ball with the S.H.I.E.L.D. and the X-men. That way Logan would gain access to resources he otherwise could only dream about. That was another point Nick had made abundantly clear and he was right. There was no point in skulking about dark alleys and dirt roads to nowhere, and in the end Logan had seized the opportunity eagerly – though he had not let Nick see that.

That was one reason why he had decided to go back. Marie had been a more important one. He worried about her. Who else was there to look after her? Yeah, right, well. It had not gone according to the plan with Magneto and his minions but who else would be willing to lay down his or her life for her? The ice boy? Screw that. That would never mount up to anything. He knew what the boy was after.

Then there was Jean. He just had to go and see where that road would take him. Probably nowhere but he was willing to settle for one night between the sheets with her. Even that would be enough to convince him, if she willingly agreed to sleeping with him, that he was not a completely lost cause. But he had allowed her to look into his mind. A stupid, stupid thing to do. That might had cost him everything. _But it ain't over 'til the fat lady sings._ He just couldn't let go of her. It wasn't just lust he felt. It wasn't, honestly.

Logan left his rucksack in the hall outside Grace's room making sure that all the straps were tucked under it. He didn't want anyone tripping over it. He knocked on the door but went in without waiting for an answer. Grace was sitting on the bed. The head of the bed was up and she had her legs stretched out under a light quilt. She looked up from her reading when he opened the door.

'Hi ya. I thought you had already left,' she said as she closed the book and put it on the side table. Logan thought she sounded genuinely surprised and a little pleased. _That's your own mind fuckin' up itself, bub._

Logan picked up a chair by the wall and took it next to the foot of Grace's bed. 'Just about to,' he said as he sat down. 'Wanted to have a word with you first.'

'I heard you talked with Nick.'

Logan shuffled about in his chair. 'Yeah.'

'What did you say to him?'

'I told I'm in. For now,' he told Grace like he had told Nick.

Grace smiled. 'Good. We could really use your help.'

'So he said,' Logan grunted. 'He said you'd be my handler.'

Grace frowned at that. 'You don't like how that sounds, do you?'

Logan loured at her but said nothing. After everything had been said and done, what he had agreed on had been to play on both sides, to spying. No honour in that but he didn't feel like he had a choice in the matter, not after all the shit that he had rained on her. And besides, as said, that way he had access to both parties' information and he needed that if he wanted to find out who he really was. Being a double agent also meant that some of the cards would move only through his hands and he would get to decide which ones got passed on.

Grace seemed to guess how he was feeling about the set up: 'Listen, you don't have to agree to anything we, or I, ask you to do. You're your own man. It's up to you.'

Logan sighed. 'Grace,' he said as he stood up and went to stand next to her. She smelled almost healed. Almost, but not quite all the way there yet. He put his hands on the bed and over the quilt that had been framed with a stripe of moss green velvet. Logan run his hands back and forth along the velvet few times. 'Nick told,' he said and looked up at her, 'that that – piece of shit that came after Marie was my brother.'

Grace straightened her back and leaned forward towards Logan. 'I know. He called himself Sabretooth.'

A chortle escaped Logan's lips. 'Do they all have these cockeyed names for themselves?'

'Many do, Wolverine.' He glared at her but said nothing. 'It empowers them,' she explained, 'makes their strangeness a sign of uniqueness, of entitlement. Some use their mutant names, as they call them, as a way to separate themselves from lesser beings.'

'Lesser beings,' Logan repeated and looked at his hands. That was true. No, it was more than that, it was a fact. No ordinary man was a match for him, not even most mutants. In a more primitive world he could have taken whatever he wanted. 'I suppose we ain't ordinary beings,' he said as he realised there was very little standing in his way even in this contemporary world. He made a fist with his right hand and let the claws slide out slowly. It hurt, as usual, but it also felt, as it always did, exhilarating, arousing even. The sense of power over others was both comforting and intoxicating. The centre of that feeling was made of hatred. That burned. Like a sun. He felt righteous with his zeal for revenge.

Something moved towards his left hand that was still resting on the bed and when he looked down he saw Grace's fingers reach out to him. 'Logan?' There was concern in her voice. He took her hand into his and turned her palm upwards. He drew the claws back in.

'I had a brother. We shared a mother. A human mother.' He felt a familiar sting of sadness when he thought about the mother who had given him life. He let her hand go. _Fuck that._

'I know. I am sorry.'

He looked up at her again and smiled: 'Yeah.' He turned around and perched himself on the edge of the bed with his back turned to her. 'I remember him from before. I remember us huntin' together.'

'When you were kids?'

'No. Later, when we were all grown up. I remember us huntin' in Nam.'

'You fought together in Vietnam? He was there with you? I don't remember him.'

Logan tilted his head back and stared at the white ceiling. _I might just as well confess to this too._ 'It wasn't fightin'. We hunted humans, me and my brother. They had no chance in hell against us two. Nobody had a chance against us. Like lambs to the slaughter. Literally. It wouldn't be fair to call it fightin'.'

'Ah,' she said as if that had explained everything. 'You mean that.'

He looked over his shoulder at her. 'You knew about that?'

'We knew. I knew.' She reached out and touched his shoulder compassionately. It felt undeserved. 'It was us that extracted you from the field. We were asked to do that after things had got out of hand right before the actual war broke out. I didn't know the two of you where brothers.'

'Who sent you in?'

'U.S. high command. They hired us. We often use a private military company as a smoke screen. That gets us in and out of conflict zones without a hitch.'

Logan stood up and looked through the window. It was a dull looking day outside. 'You met me then?' he asked.

'Aye, that's when we met for the first time.'

'So we already knew each other in Afghanistan?' He felt sick to his stomach for some reason. He looked away from the window. The room was painted in warm, pale sand colour; there was a hint of dust on the floor at the near corner. He had expected the room to be like any patient room in a random hospital but it was more like a classy hotel room. Slightly shabby on the edges though.

'No, we didn't really know each other. We met only briefly in Nam. It was Nick who remembered our paths had crossed there. I didn't remember you from Nam at all.'

'I probably did.' He folded his arms across his chest. He took a step towards the chair but halted and glanced sideways at her. 'Explains why I,' he grunted, 'took up their offer. I probably had seen you fight and that had made me see you as a fittin' trophy.' He let his shoulders drop and sat down. He smiled crookedly. 'It's a pleasure to watch you fight, you know.' He had meant it as a compliment but it only made a shadow fall across her face. He looked away realising how his words might have sounded in her ears and cleared his throat. 'Listen, there's somethin' I need to talk you about.'

The door opened interrupting him. Logan quickly vacated the chair and moved over to the window so that whoever had entered the room would have clear access to her bed. He didn't try to see who had come in and he knew he was yielding like a dog. He was yielding: he wanted to make it painfully clear he had no hidden agendas when it came to Grace. He leaned his back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest before throwing an unconcerned glance at the person entering. It was the man with pieces of coal for eyes, Sattar or something. Logan nodded in greeting.

'Oh, my apologies. I thought you were alone, Grace. Logan,' Sattar said returning the greeting. He walked over to Grace, leaned in and kissed her courteously on both cheeks. 'I just wanted to see how you are feeling.'

'I'm fine, Sattar. Bored but fine.' Logan watched her face and eyes glow as she held Sattar by his hands and touched his forehead with hers before letting him go. Logan felt an odd pain and rubbed the muscles next to his breastplate. He needed to get moving. All this lying about had made his muscles stiff.

Sattar turned to Logan. 'I am sorry for the interruption, Logan. I'll leave you to it,' he said and looked over at Grace, 'I'll come back later. I truly didn't mean to interrupt. You have things you two need to discuss. I will see you later, Grace.' He patted Grace on her cheek.

Grace smiled. 'That would be great, Sattar. I want to ask for your opinion on few things. Could you came back in an hour and half or so?'

Sattar agreed and tried to leave but Logan stepped in the man's way. 'I need a favour from you,' he told bluntly. He realised he was being overbearing and backed away. 'I mean, if it's okay with you?'

Sattar looked doubtful for a moment but smiled after all. 'Sure. You know you can always ask.'

Logan looked over Sattar's shoulder at Grace who looked a little surprised. Logan returned his attention to Sattar. The smaller man was dressed in a linen coloured suit. He always seemed to be wearing a linen coloured suit. 'I was about to tell Grace somethin',' Logan explained. 'Would you stay to witness what I have to say?'

Sattar looked thoughtfully at Grace too before turning his eyes back at Logan. 'I'd be happy to,' he said with a smile. 'Would you mind if I sat down?'

'No, suit yourself,' Logan replied waving at the chair. He waited until Sattar had sat down. Logan rubbed his brow with the heel of his left palm, wiped his nose on his knuckles, and exhaled. 'Grace, I have no fuckin' clue how this works so I want so say this in front of him,' he nudged with his head towards Sattar, 'so that there's a third party present who can bear witness. I don't know if I need one but,' he glanced at Sattar, 'I guess it never hurts and I think it would make you believe I mean what I say.'

Grace looked baffled. Logan walked over to her bedside and leaned his hands on the mattress. 'Love, I need to talk you about this Code thing again, okay.'

'Right,' she said and looked past him at Sattar for confirmation. Logan didn't care if she got one or not.

'Correct me if I'm wrong, but since I happened to ask you to –,' he almost glanced at Sattar but decided the man was irrelevant as anything more than a witness, as a tape recorder, '– Since I asked you to kill me, you've been forced to take my side in everythin', right?'

'Aye, kind of, but –.'

He didn't let her finish the sentence and he cut her short with his forefinger. 'No, let me finish. So you are – honour bound to me, in a way, right?'

'Yes, but –.'

Logan drilled his stare into her eyes. 'I told you to listen.' She nodded and he continued: 'I know that that has saved my ass several times. Nick told to my face that without you they would've finished me off several times. Isn't that right, Sattar?' he added turning his head slightly towards the seated man.

'True.'

Logan sighed and bent his head down. 'I can't have that, love,' he said quietly, 'I can't have you being bound to me in that way.' He straightened his back and looked directly at her. 'I take back my request for you to kill me. I withdraw it, retract it or whatever the fuckin' terminology here is. I don't want to die by your hand. I don't want,' he paused for an effect, 'your sword.' He fell silent and waited for something to be said but Grace merely stared at him. He turned towards Sattar. 'Do I need to add somethin'?'

Sattar clenched his jaw. 'No. That is basically it. Not how we would put it but the meaning is the same. Grace,' he said and stood up, 'you are no longer bound by the Code. Logan no longer falls under your jurisdiction in that sense under the Code. He is not under your sword and thus not under its protection. This I witness.'

'Okay,' was all she said.

'Okay,' repeated Logan.

Sattar watched the two stand in silence. 'Logan, I fear I need to point out that while you are no longer under her protection as dictated by the Code concerning your coup de grâce, you still are a Soldier and in that respect you two are still joined under the Code.'

Logan glanced at Sattar but then stared at Grace in silence. 'And there's no way to brake that link in a way that would make her accept I'm no longer under her command,' he asked without looking away from her, 'is there?' Sattar did not reply immediately and Logan turned towards him. 'Is there?' he demanded.

'No,' Sattar admitted, 'There is nothing you can do to change that, I'm afraid.'

Logan sighed in resignation. _Cut your losses._ Suddenly he smiled and glanced at Grace from under his brow. 'You are so fuckin' stubborn, aren't you?' he scolded but without true animosity.

Sattar laughed softly as he stood up. 'She is, isn't she?' He looked at his pocket watch. 'I will take my leave now. Shall I return in an hour?'

Logan backed away from the bed. 'Sure,' Grace said.

'Yeah, this won't take too long,' Logan confirmed. 'I'll be off by then. I just want to ask her about that Alkali Lake.'

Sattar nodded his head as farewell: 'Good travels, then. Until the next time.'

Logan kept his eyes on Sattar as the smaller man walked at the door. The man was slightly taller than Logan but slender, much slender than most. Not thin in a wasted kind of a way, Logan thought as he studied the man's back, but slender. _Elfish._ Part of the effect was due to the man's manner of movement, to an effortless fluidity in his bodily deportment.

 _Elves and aliens. Shit._

'What's his talent?' Logan asked when the door was closed again.

'Sattar's? He's a Fortune Teller.'

Logan guffawed. 'So he has a crystal ball? Did he tell you'd meet a tall, dark, handsome stranger who would sweep you off your feet?' he asked jokingly. He turned to Grace with a sly smile on his face but Grace was not amused.

'He's a Fortune Teller, not a clairvoyant. He can't tell what will happen but what is likely to happen. He can tell the probability of possible outcomes and what factors will effect the probabilities.'

'Was it him who told you where to find me in the forest?'

Grace threw the quilt aside and got of the bed. 'No.'

Logan watched her go to a locker. 'Then who was it? You told me it was your friends.'

Grace turned his back to Logan and pulled her T-shirt off as she walked through the bathroom door. Logan didn't know where to look so he kept his eyes defiantly on her naked back. She seemed to have more muscle than when he and Pete had carrier her back to the recovery lab. 'That's none of your business,' she called. She had vanished behind the wall but she had left the door open and Logan could still see her as a reflection in the shower's glass door. He watched as she pulled a fresh T-shirt over her head and begun to pull down her pyjama pants. Logan cleared his throat and forced himself to go over to window. It really was a dull day outside. A uniform blanket of clouds with northernly wind. _Why the fuck did she do that?_ He felt an arousal creeping in down at his groin. It was all too casual way too soon.

He pulled away a bit giving Grace space when she walked over to him. She reached over past him and opened the window. Fresh, cool air flowed into the room. Grace closed her eyes and stood motionlessly in the breeze for a moment. 'Was there something else you wanted to ask?'

Logan caught himself thinking about nipples and cold air.

'Uh, yeah.' Logan moved away from the window and sat in the chair again. The chair felt warm. 'That Alkali Lake place. Did you find anythin' there? Why did you even go there?' It was not the question he had top most in his mind but it was the first one to come out.

'There used to be a privately owned research facility there. A big consolidated corporation behind it.' Grace leaned against the window sill and breathed in the cool air. Logan tried not to look. 'A very private company, very hush-hush until an animal activists group got their hands on some of their research and published it. Turned out the company had been doing some insanely advanced research in genetics. Full scale genome manipulation on animals and stuff, not just simple gene manipulation. Cloning even, and they had been very successful in it.'

'So?'

'It was all over the news around the time I found you in the forest. It also turned out that they had been running some incredibly cruel animal testing. Pure dead evil.' She smiled sympathetically. 'The evidence told us they used to do stuff to primates. Rumours circulating amongst the public whispered about human subjects. Of something similar to what was done to you.'

'Adamantium enhanced chimpanzees?' Logan shot. The idea was amusing but only when you couldn't appreciate the experience intimately. 'I remember hearing something about that. What happened? How did it get blown to pieces?'

'Now that's the interesting part.' Grace sat down on a second chair in the corner next to the window. 'The state came down hard on the corporation. People got investigated and even arrested, and a court order gave the police an authority to enter the premises with force if necessary. Then somebody beat them to it. An unknown player raided the place just a few days before the police was supposed to come knocking. They burned everything. Killed or kidnapped most of the staff except few of the cleaners. Those who had been at home also got assaulted in their homes or got killed in freak accidents. Some suddenly got seriously ill and died or were left in persistent vegetative state. No clues whatsoever. Not of the research nor of the assailants. Just thin air. If even that.'

Logan clenched his jaw. 'Was that where they made me?'

Grace leaned her chin against the palm of her hand. A fragrance of compassion writhed across the floor and into Logan's nose. 'I think that's the place where they bonded you. Sattar says the probability is high, so we think it's the most likely place.'

The information sunk slowly into Logan. 'They must've been active for decades.'

'It seems so,' Grace agreed. She leaned back in the chair and let Logan take his time. 'I didn't find much though. The snow fall screwed up my plans.'

Logan said nothing about his part. 'We need to go back.'

Grace smiled at that. 'Aye, we do, but we may have to wait until the snow is gone.'

'The snow could make our job easier if we did an areal search from a plane,' Logan argued.

'Ah, true. If the site is still active we'd be bound to find some tracks. And thermal imaging would benefit from the cold weather.' Grace opened her arms in a welcoming gesture. 'Worth a try at least. We'll send some drones ASAP.' She got off the chair and walked up at Logan. She patted him casually on the shoulder: 'Good thinking, Soldier.'

Her gesture felt surprisingly good. Logan realised he had become a part of her team, of her command. He didn't like the idea of being a soldier under somebody's authority, he had sworn he would never again submit to that kind of hierarchy, but he liked the fact that somewhere during the last week or so his status in her eyes had changed. The old familiarity, the strange closeness, and the later uneasiness and discomfort between them had been replaced by military camaraderie; the confused, bizarre state of affairs between them had been changed into something more straight forward. He liked that. He wasn't her friend, he knew that, but neither was he on her blacklist. Not any more. _Probably not in her top ten either but I can live with that. Easily._ He knew where he stood now that there was a protocol in place.

Logan stood up. 'Gotta get goin'. Lemme know what you find.'

Grace opened the door for him. 'Sure thing. We have your number.'

 _Course you do,_ Logan thought as he walked through the door. 'Catch you later,' he said as he passed her. There was an odd moment there when his shoulder moved past hers with only an inch or two between them. Something in his chest constricted and his felt somehow empty. He picked the rucksack briskly from the floor and hoisted it over his shoulder.

'One more thing,' he said. 'What did you see in my dream?'

'Nothing.' She seemed apologetic. 'Your dream was too – How to put it? – Too narrowly focused? Your mind was consumed with pain and fear when it happened. That meant that your consciousness was concentrated on what happened to you. That's why you remember all those details immediately around you so well, but it also means that you didn't pay much attention to the details further away. There were people present there, some command staff, but they exist at the fringe of your dream. You don't have a clear image of them in that moment. Just some human figures at the periphery of your experience.'

'No faces then?'

Grace sighed. 'No. I'm sorry. Just three or four men toasting at their success.'

So the humiliation of letting her seeing him in that state had been in vain. He was already turning away when he finally found the guts to ask the question that had been nagging him. He halted, turned back towards her and leaned closer. 'Years ago, back at your cabin when those fuckers tried to snatch me – How did you manage to kill that radio operator hiding at the tree line? He was at least 150 yards away from the house and you never left my sight. How did you manage that?'

Her shoulders sank and he felt how her centre of gravity withdrew away from his. She didn't step away, not as such, she just got smaller, tighter, and more distant. Logan feared he had asked too much too soon.

Grace looked away, stared at something he could not see. 'Logan –' she begun but didn't continue. _He let her be. Time to go._

'Well, I guess I'll hit road now.'

Grace's fingers reached out and touched the back of his hand. 'I told you about the sword, remember.'

'Yeah.' He did. Not his proudest moment, but he did remember. 'You said it can cut through anything.

Grace let her hand fall. 'It can, it really does.' She avoided his eyes and smell of her discomfort enveloped them both. 'I had located the RTO earlier when we first noticed them.'

'When you – delved outwards, right?'

'Aye, I left a – I suppose I could call it a ghost of my consciousness with him. That way I was always aware of his location and presence. It's tiresome, taxing, to do that but it's – effective. That way I can return my consciousness instantly to that location if I want to.

Logan studied the form of her head and shoulders with his eyes. He couldn't imagine what her Talent really was: telepathy, an ability to be in two places at once? 'How did you kill him?'

'I focused on him and applied the swords willingness to cut on him.'

'But how did you get to him?'

'Like I got into you when I highjacked your body.'

Logan swallowed. So she could do that without actually touching her subject. 'What the hell is your Talent exactly?' He had a bad feeling about it but the question just jumped out.

Grace chuckled: 'Haven't you guessed by now?' She inhaled sharply and resigned. 'I did tell you this before. My Talent is death. I'm not the angel of grace you once took me for. I'm the angel of death, the grim reaper himself.' She lifted her chin and looked straight at him, daring him to challenge her. She didn't really answer his question but he let it slide. He would find it out eventually. They stood motionless for a moment but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Logan lifted his right hand and cupped her cheek into it. She leaned into his touch and he said nothing. He let his hand fall on her shoulder, squeezed it gently knowing something of her pain and turned away. He simply walked away leaving her to stand alone in the hallway. There was nothing he could say to that just then, nothing he could offer.

 _Grace, love._

'See ye efter,' he heard her call after him. Then her door closed.

* * *

'It is possible he's evil,' Grace said to Sattar who had returned an hour or so after Logan had left.

Sattar thought about her words. 'He _was_ evil. At least at one point of his life, I believe.'

Grace looked at him irritatedly. 'Aren't you supposed to know these things?'

'I know probabilities. Likelihoods, chances, prospects. I _know_ very little. I suspect,' Sattar reminded. He crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. 'I _do_ know he was evil. The darkest kind of evil – almost but not quite through and through. There is something in him that remained – unspoiled?' Sattar looked at the far corner of the room as if the word he was reaching for might have been lurking there. 'I would not say innocent but something along those lines. Untouched?' he tried savouring the sound of the word as it left his lips. 'Honest? Unsullied? Artless? No, it's nothing like that.' He covered his eyes with his hand and sighed.

'Charles Xavier told me Logan has a heart.'

'I would say he has a soul,' Sattar countered and stood up. 'Most of the truly evil men I have ever met felt like they had the opposite of a soul hidden somewhere inside them.'

Grace sunk back on the pillows. 'I know what you mean. He isn't like that. He doesn't have that air about him. But there is a starless night hidden within that heart of his.'

Sattar smiled. 'You have such a poet in you, Grace. All those years you spent with the Celts really have rubbed off on you.' He picked up the book she had been reading from the bedside table and looked at its cover. 'Ah, Polynesian seafaring.' He put the book down and sat on the bed. 'He doesn't have that air about him,' he agreed, 'but it does not mean it isn't there.'

'No, it doesn't.'

'Fewer things than we think mean something; every little thing is not a sign.' Sattar said to console her even though he didn't really know what to say. He closed his eyes. Sensations produced by his Talent penetrated his body, strange tensions and feelings of void that told him which courses of events where more likely than others. Eventually he exhaled slowly to relax himself and opened his eyes again. 'It is a tight balance. Several futures are at odds. I would say to trust your instincts, Grace, go where your heart tells you to go.'

'What the hell does that mean?'

'I don't know,' Sattar confessed, 'Use the Force or something like that.' He heard Grace snort at that but in a warmly amused way. 'I wouldn't say he is a wild card but that he has been put into play such a long time ago that almost everyone has forgot to what end. It's you who has to see it through. You need to match the bet and see the game through.'

'I know. I wish it was someone else.'

'Yup.' Sattar waited for a moment before patting Grace on her forearm. 'One thing I know for sure, though.'

'Yeah? What's that?'

He wasn't sure if he really ought to tell her. The balance between things was so delicate that anything could tip the scale the wrong way. He left his hand on Grace's forearm. He decided he should to tell. 'Don't take this the wrong way, but he does love you.'

'Every Soldier loves his Marshal. It's intrinsic for them. He's not in love.'

'That's exactly what I meant. You are not his actual Marshal and I don't think he would appreciate the difference anyhow. He never received the upbringing.'

'He has PTSD. His confusing lust with love.'

'If you say so.'


End file.
